One and the Same
by nepentheosileus
Summary: [HIATUS] The disappearance of Yami Bakura arouses multitudes of questions, all lacking in answers. Ryou is forced to fight the shadows his yami left behind, lest he gets swallowed up by them entirely. [see inside for pairings list]
1. Shadow and Soul

**A/N** **: Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017**

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 **Rating** **: T for violence, character death, language, and** _ **possible**_ **sexual situations in the future**

 **Genre** **: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, Tragedy**

 **Pairing** **: Tendershipping, past Redshipping, and hints of Thiefshipping and Angstshipping with canon Puppyshipping on the side**

* * *

 **"One in the Same"**

 **by nepentheosileus**

* * *

 _Long strands of silvery-white danced in the harsh wind, twisting, curling, and intertwining beautifully. Pale fingers wrapped around the golden trinket dangling from a rope around his slim neck, gripping it securely, protectively. His lips parted in a lecherous smile, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth that glinted in the moonlight like a set of new knives. Reddish-brown eyes ablaze with his characteristic malicious intent, he tossed a look over his shoulder at the Egyptian spirit behind him._

 _"Marik," he called lowly, his voice not unlike that of a hissing snake. The Egyptian raised his breath-taking lilac eyes in acknowledgement, jaw clenched in a concentrated frown. "On my mark, I want you to force yourself into your body."_

 _The spirit sighed, raking a tanned hand through his blonde hair. "Don't you think I would have done that by now? It's not that simple." He glanced back at his possessed body, meeting the blood-thirsty eyes of his crazed alter ego._

 _Rays of golden light began to spill from the Millennium Ring in waves, engulfing its holder like a blanket. He raised the item up, one side facing himself and the other Marik's body. "Just do what I say, you fool!" The whitette snarled, shooting the spirit a vicious glare._

 _Blonde locks whipped violently as the powerful magic began to radiate through the air, the wind whirling harder and louder. Black-rimmed eyes once again found their owner's body as he calculated any and all possible options and outcomes, his darker half raising the Millennium Rod, preparing to attack. "This wasn't a part of the plan," he huffed stubbornly, though with the slight incline of his head, he agreed._

 _The light shot out suddenly, hitting the Egyptian's body directly on the Eye of Horus mark on his forehead. Before wide lilac eyes, the very soul of the yami was ripped from its vessel, and at that moment the whitette shouted an urgent "now, Marik!". The spirit broke out into a sprint, darting forward and diving into the now empty shell of a body, quickly and easily regaining control. He blinked his eyes into focus, turning his attention back to his ally._

 _Just as with his own, the white-haired boy's yami was sucked out of its container and was pulled into the Ring. His body collapsed to the ground, falling face-first and with an audible 'thump'._

 _"Ba… Bakura?!"_

* * *

Soft pink lips pursed in deep thought, pigmentless eyebrows drawn in a considerate furrow. Slender fingers pale as snow fisted at the hem of his school uniform blazer, his indoor shoes tap-tap-tapping at the floor in a quiet, even rhythm. Distracted from the still reality surrounding him, Bakura Ryou sat in a tense not-quite silence, immersed in thoughts of no importance to the average sixteen year old.

The scuffling of shoes accompanied the ringing of the school bell, and the whitette dazedly began to pack away his supplies into his briefcase. A shadow soon formed over him, however, and he glanced up to meet the golden eyes of Jounouchi Katsuya.

"Heya, Bakura," the blonde teen greeted with a friendly grin. He snatched up a few stray pieces of paper from Ryou's desk and organized them into a neat stack, handing them over to the smaller boy once done. "We," he jutted a hand behind him at the slowly gathering Yuugi-tachi, "were gonna head to the arcade. Feel up to it?"

"Thanks," Ryou murmured appreciatively as he slipped the papers into his case. Chocolate brown eyes blinked and looked away in an attempt to fight down nervousness. He cleared his throat of the lump that had settled there. "Uhm, not today, Jounouchi-kun, though thank you for the offer." Wrapping a pale hand around the handle to his case, the Brit stood with a flawed grace only he himself could pull off and nodded a goodbye to his friend. A gentle but firm grip on his forearm stopped him short of leaving, however, and a strangled yelp spilled from his suddenly tangled vocal cords.

Jounouchi let go almost immediately, recoiling with a noticeable flinch as if burned. "Ah, sorry. I forgot," he apologized with a pointed look at Ryou's arm. "I just wanted to ask… Erm, well, that is… I was wondering…" He bites his lower lip nervously. "Has… Has you-know-who come back?"

A pleasant smile played across Ryou's face, his eyes crinkling in sincerity. "No, he hasn't. I would have told you if he did. After all, we're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, of course. Anyway, maybe some other day then." A scratch to the head.

"Perhaps." The slightly shorter boy once again nodded his head and turned to leave, saying a quiet "good day" to the passing Yuugi-tachi before walking swiftly to the door. Yuugi smiled brightly at him and tapped a finger on his ear; Ryou returned the action and slipped silently into the hallway, ignoring Marik Ishtar's lilac eyes boring into his back, and went to retrieve his shoes.

It felt nice to know that his friends cared for him, that they worried. He'd never had anyone fuss over him in such a way, and though it was almost smothering at first, it had become comfortable, almost typical. Yet most of all, it pleased him, the fact that he could have readily agreed to going out that afternoon. There would be no consequences, no punishment to be dealt nor a single person injured. He was free, if only for the time being, and freedom was something to be valued, rare as it was.

Though he hadn't taken advantage of it. Not a single day or night did he do as he would have killed to do just a month or so ago, and from the looks of it, he didn't think he would. Something was holding him back with an iron grasp. Perhaps it was the underlying feeling of doom, as though this was only the calm before the storm. Was the world really so cruel as to dangle this freedom before him before yanking it away? He didn't dare doubt it. Was it impossible for him to be happy, if just for a while?

He felt like he was going to return, angrier than ever, and destroy all of the happiness he'd built up in his absence.

He as in Yami Bakura.

For the past two weeks, a calming peace had blanketed Ryou in false security. Ever since the end of Battle City, he'd been Ryou, simply and completely Ryou. There was no darker side, no evil half, no terror or murder or bloodshed. He was safe. And somehow, that scared him more so than anything else.

Nothing made sense anymore; not that anything ever truly did. But now, not only was he left to seek the answer to the question of "where?", but the question of "why?". Why did Ryou's yami sacrifice himself? For what purpose did he willingly destroy himself? Surely there was an ulterior motive.

The spirit of the Millennium Ring was supposed to be evil.

He wasn't supposed to sacrifice himself for anyone, let alone Marik Ishtar.

No one understood it, not even the Egyptian himself. According to him, that was never a part of their plan nor would it ever have been; it had been just as much a surprise to him as the rest of the Yuugi-tachi. There were so many questions, all lacking in answers. Was the spirit dead? If not, then where was he?

Ryou sighed, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind his ear. As his apartment slowly morphed into view, he picked up his pace ever so slightly and hurried inside. He toed off his shoes and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter on his way to fetch a snack, setting a kettle of water for some tea onto the stove and grabbing an apple, some peanut butter, and a knife. "Hmm," he hummed as he plopped down onto a chair at the table. "What should we have for dinner, then…?"

"Do you talk to yourself often?"

 _Slip._ The knife pierced his skin, drawing a steady trickle of crimson. "A-ah!" Swivelling around in his chair, Ryou brought his bleeding thumb to his lips as he met the bored face of his father. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Well," his father drawled, slumping onto the kitchen doorframe, "I live here."

"You could have at least called to tell me you were coming home." Ryou stood and pattered over to the sink, running the water cold and allowing it to wash over his finger. Biting his lip, whether from the pain or his words he wasn't quite sure, he glanced at the window that rested in the wall before him at his father's reflection. The man took a swig from the beer he hadn't noticed him holding and lumbered over to the table, stealing his son's seat and taking a large bite from his apple. Ryou sighed inaudibly.

"I would've," _'no he wouldn't',_ "but it was sudden." The older man said, wheezing out a boisterous cough. Once his fit ceased, he chased it down with another chug of his toxic drink and continued. "A tomb we were in collapsed on us. Threw out my back completely. I was knocked out for a whole two days."

Then, a mumble. "And in those two days no one thought to call me?"

He knew his father heard based on the threatening expression that bloomed on his face, though no more words were spoken of the subject; 'how typical of him', Ryou thought, heading to the bathroom to grab a bandaid. His father's voice reached him a few moments later. "So who is we then, if you didn't know I was here?"

Blinking in confusion, the whitette returned to the kitchen, bandaid sticking to his finger. "What do you mean?"

"Earlier. You said _'what should we have for dinner'_." The man frowned as he finished his beer, turning to Ryou expectantly. The younger sighed and replaced the empty bottle with a new one from the fridge. "You got an imaginary friend or something?" He smirked, popping the top and throwing his head back for a swig.

Did it always have to be like this? Ryou bit his lip; was that what they were calling it now? Last time it was _"hearing voices, eh Ry?"_ and the time before that it was _"get yourself a girlfriend? Well that's a surprise."_. Every time, every single time he would slip up and speak aloud to the spirit of the Millennium Ring, his father seemed to jump at the opportunity to make some snide comment.

It had worried him at first; _'what would the spirit do?'_ But now it was just annoying.

It was also annoying how after two weeks without his yami, he was still talking to him.

"No, I don't," he mumbled as the tea kettle began to scream. Fixing his cup of tea with extra cream, just as he liked it, he tottered up the stairs to his room, wishing to never have to leave and see his father. As he passed the mirror on his wall, he stopped and peered at his reflection, a small smile gracing his lips. His new earrings stare back at him lifelessly.

* * *

 _"Bakura-kun!"_

 _Stifling a yawn, Ryou twirled on his heel and smiled gently at Yuugi, the smaller boy trotting up to him cheerily. Waiting until his friend stopped just at his side, he slowly turned to resume his walk down the crowded school hallway. "Good morning, Yuugi-kun," he greeted, stopping at his shoe locker._

 _Yuugi grinned and opened his own locker just feet away, clumsily kicking off a shoe and hopping around on a single foot for a moment as he attempted to replace it. "Morning!" He squeaked as he slipped, and Ryou quickly swooped in and grabbed his arm before he could tumble to the floor. The tri-color haired boy winked as he righted himself. "I meant to do that."_

 _Giggling, the taller boy shook his head playfully. "You're going to seriously hurt yourself one of these days," he said, removing his own dirty sneakers and putting on his indoor shoes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Marik Ishtar enter, briefcase flung over his shoulder and observant gaze finding him immediately from where he stood. He gulped and looked away._

 _He'd heard from the Yuugi-tachi about Battle City. How Marik had joined forces with Yami Bakura to plot against the Pharaoh and eventually to overthrow his own alter ego, and how they'd even set his own body on the line while doing so. It made him uncomfortable. The way Marik always watched him, as if seeing through him, prying into his soul. Ryou knew what he was looking for, of course, and maybe this knowledge only made the feeling worsen; Marik was looking for the spirit, waiting with a silent desperation for the moment that he would return._

 _Ryou bit his lip, unconsciously bringing his right hand to lightly clasp his opposite forearm over the wound that had been purposely inflicted on him by his yami and the Egyptian tomb keeper._

 _"What's wrong, Bakura-kun?" Piped a soft voice from beside him, violet-tipped black hair appearing in his line of view. He looked down at Yuugi. "Is your arm bothering you?"_

 _"Ah," Ryou shut his locker door, averting his gaze to the floor. "It's fine. Just… stings a bit, I suppose." 'Stings my emotions', he adds internally._

 _Yuugi frowned sympathetically, tilting his head to the side. "I wish I could have stopped them from hurting you…" His eyelids flutter in realisation. "Oh, that reminds me!" The small boy bent down, opening his briefcase and digging through it for a moment. A spare deck of Duel Monsters cards, playing cards, a bag of jacks, five Capsule Monsters, four die are easily seen within. Finally, he grinned, pulling out a small black box and handing it over to Ryou. "So we can always be with you." He informed his friend as he opened the gift carefully. "To protect you."_

 _Ryou's heart skipped a beat as he gazed down at the small golden triangle earrings._

 _The Millennium Puzzle glints. The British boy smiles and mumbles a "thank you" to Yuugi, though his eyes stay glued to the Puzzle around the smaller's neck until he turns away, skipping over to Mazaki Anzu. 'You're watching over me, aren't you, Pharaoh?' Ryou thinks, tightening his grip around the small box._

 _His free hand reaches for the Millennium Ring._

 _'Are you watching too, Spirit?'_

 _As he leaves to homeroom, he notes that someone else is watching as well. Someone else being the ever-present Marik Ishtar._

* * *

Ryou's soft smile at the memory soon twists into a frown.

He needed to get out, to do something. A distraction; a distraction from these thoughts, thoughts of Marik and the spirit and his father. Maybe it wasn't too late to head over to the arcade and meet with the Yuugi-tachi, he decided as he quickly gulped down his tea despite the burning sensation it sent throughout his mouth and throat. Stopping only to change from his school uniform to his regular clothes, Ryou raced down the stairs and out the door, shoes and keys attained.

 _Two cars whizz by. A bird tweets._ Humming, he attempted to keep his mind set on a song he liked. He ducked into the woods, a shortcut, and walked a shrubby pathway for a few minutes before stepping out onto the street again.

 _Beeeeep!_

His head snaps to the side, eyes catching the horrific sight of a car speeding straight towards him. Its tires squeal loudly, as the driver must have been stepping hard on the brakes.

Heart leaping into his throat, Ryou froze in place, his brown eyes wide. Was this how it was going to end? So suddenly and unexpectedly, like everything else in his life? He licked his dry lips, forcing his eyes shut, hands fisting at his sides. The screeching of wheels on cement reached his ears faster and louder, faster, louder, louder, too close, and he sucked in a deep breath, idly wondering if it was his last.

 _'Help me…'_

 _'Please…'_

 _'I don't want to die…'_

 _'...Spirit..!'_

He waited for the impact, yet nothing happened. Heart racing with fear, with adrenaline and confusion, possibly hope, he hesitantly allowed his eyelids to flutter open.

They opened to the eerily still and familiar room of his soul.

His translucent body appeared as it always did; sitting cross-legged in the center of the small room, completely lacking in clothes, though temperature was of no issue inside one's mind. Stretching out around him was a black floor, solid despite seeming like it was built out of nothingness, and lining the walls was a large glass display case that ran from floor to ceiling, containing multitudes of Monster World action figures; it never ceased to irk him how they represented the souls that his yami had taken and sealed within them. The lighting was relatively bright, though not overbearingly so, as any Hikari's room would be, and it glinted off of the many small picture frames strewn across the floor.

 _'I'm not dead'_ , he thinks suddenly, glancing behind him at the large glass door that lead to the hallway of his mind. Through it, the door to the second Soul Room was visible; a gigantic golden slab, chipped and dusty with age, engraved with hieroglyphics of the ancient world. Slowly turning around, Ryou stood, crossing the floor and pushing open his thin glass door - symbolizing his breakability and fragileness, he knew - before pausing in the hallway.

"Spirit..." He murmured quietly, and it sounded like a piercing scream in the utter silence that surrounded him. Was Yami Bakura back? Had he saved him? Perhaps the spirit had taken control of his body; after all, those were the only times he'd ever wound up here. Inhaling deeply, he reached up with one of his long, slender white arms and placed the palm of his hand hesitantly upon the cool golden surface before him.

It was a few moments later that he finally decided to push on it.

The door let out an obnoxious groan as Ryou placed his second hand on it and pushed with all of his might, which, mind you, wasn't all that much. A freezing cold gust of wind slipped out from the slowly forming gap between the wall and the slab of gold, ravaging the boy's body and chilling him to the bone; it was strange, he thought, how such a thing was even possible in his mind, especially since it had never been that way before.

 **"Hal eada, alls?"** Whispered a low, airy voice in a foreign tongue unknown to Ryou; it didn't take too long for him to guess it was ancient Egyptian. The sound crawled under his skin, sending shivers scraping down his spinal cord.

As the door creaked open, the insides of the room became more visible, despite the utter lack of lighting; an old tomb, filled with piles among piles of jewels and golden treasures that glinted in the dim light that slipped in from the doorway. Shadows danced about the room, swinging from the ceiling and flying towards the only living feature of the room; although to Ryou, they seemed plenty alive. If he looked close enough, it almost seemed as though they had faces, staring lifelessly back at him with pleading and mournful expressions, their dark hands reaching out at him in a silent beckoning.

A form lurked in the center of the room, an entity formed solely of shadows and darkness. It seemed to gaze at him, though he had no way of knowing this. However, as it appeared that his yami was nowhere in sight, he took the liberty in assuming the one speaking to him was this entity.

 **"Im takkun alllus... walikann alssafinat alssariq, la?"**

Despite the lack of understanding in the words, Ryou felt an immense panic begin to rise inside of him as the shadow slowly slithered towards him, its long whisps of darkness circling around his body; his soul. His breath hitched in his throat as something that greatly resembled a hand caressed his cheek, leaving a trail of ice in its wake.

 **"'Aetaqid 'ann ealayk 'an tafeal..."**

The wispy hand then dissolved into a string of smoke-like shadow, and just as Ryou finally drew in a shaky breath, it clung to the air as if glued and slipped past his parted lips. He gasped, clutching at his throat, and the shadows around him began to screech unbearably loud, shattering the silence like a sledgehammer to glass. His false eardrums began to flare with mysterious agony from the ear-splitting noise, and he didn't bother wondering how he was able to feel the pain. All that mattered was the horrid sound and making it stop.

Doubling over, he slid his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as a rippling scream escaped from his mouth.

* * *

"...ou... Ry... Ryou!"

Snapping his eyelids open, Ryou immediately locked his sight on the lilac orbs hovering mere inches above his face. Marik Ishtar stared back at him, slim blonde eyebrows drawn in concern.

"Thank Ra you're alright!" The accented voice breathed, the scent of mint reaching Ryou's nostrils. Marik raked a tanned hand through his mane of oddly light colored hair, sighing in what appeared to be overwhelming relief. "I thought you were dead for a moment there, as your body was completely still and unreactive, and then suddenly you were screaming bloody murder. Scared the living daylights out of me."

Ryou blinked, pushing against the Egyptian's chest gently so as to get him to move, before sitting up and bringing a hand to his pulsing head. He groaned in pain, rubbing at his temples. "W-what happened..?" He murmured softly, lifting his gaze up to meet the other's.

"Ah," Marik wagged a finger in disapproval, "you really should be more careful! I just about ran you over!"

Fixing his gaze on the car that sat only feet away from where he was on the pavement, Ryou gulped, memories of a nearly forgotten experience returning to him. To think he'd nearly forgotten such a thing... "I'm sorry... I must have caused you quite a bit of trouble..." He moved to stand, wobbling on his feet momentarily before righting himself.

"I suspect you might have fainted back there. I didn't even hit you," the Egyptian said as he slid an arm under one of Ryou's in support. "You should go back home; errands can wait until you've regained your health. I'll drive you." He lead Ryou to the passenger side of the car, holding open the door and assisting him inside.

Ryou chose not to respond, instead leaning back against the cool leather seat and fastening his safety belt around his torso. Watching as Marik jogged around the front of the vehicle, a frown spread across his lips. Back, he'd said, back home. As if implying that he knew he'd just come from his apartment. Or maybe he'd only assumed since Ryou had changed out of his school uniform? Or maybe them meeting here was no coincidence after all; he wouldn't put it past the foreigner to stalk him.

Sighing, he attempted to clear his head. It was just paranoia. He was being ridiculous.

Marik slid into the driver's side and revved up the engine, doing a quick U-turn and starting a steady drive towards Ryou's apartment complex. The Brit blinked back his sudden fear, gripping the handle of the door beside him firmly; just in case. His brain pounded at his skull as if trying to break free, and he brought his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was as though his head was submerged in murky water, all clouded and foggy.

 **"'Ant li alan..."**

Gasping for breath, he attempted to get air back into his suddenly winded lungs. Head swimming violently, he leaned his forehead against the cool window, panting harshly. Through the haze, he could hear Marik's worried voice inquiring him of his current state. Everything burned. His mind burned, his hands, feet, stomach, chest; everything. It was as though someone had lit a match in his soul, forcing scorching hot flames to radiate throughout his entire being. He wanted desperately to scream, yet no words nor sounds were released past his lips and gritted teeth.

And then there was a hand on his shoulder, and the fire was extinguished. He turned slowly to Marik, the one person he'd been avoiding these past few weeks with a passion, and was greeted with all the concern he'd ever wish to receive from someone. Lilac eyes sparkled with sincerity as he uttered the words, "are you okay?".

"I," licking his dry lips, Ryou nodded slightly, "I believe so..." Gaze turning back to the front, he noted that the car was parked just before his apartment and his gut twisted. "H-how..." Lifting a trembling finger, he pointed outside of the windshield.

"What do you - oh." Marik bit his lip, a feat Ryou saw from his peripherals, and undid his safety belt. "Well I live here too. Temporarily, of course. But I've seen you around here before, so... It's not like I'm... stalking you or anything..." He trailed off, his words apparently dying on his tongue, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Anyways."

Not wanting to be in the same small space as the Egyptian teenager any longer, the albino quickly unfastened his own belt and wrenched the car door open, stepping out on his half-numb legs. "W-well, thank you for your assistance, but I'd best be going now. If you'll excuse me..." And with that he slammed the door with a bit more force than necessary and stumbled to the apartment entrance. He refused to look back, lest he meet the piercing gaze of the other.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I do not speak arabic or ancient Egyptian. I used Google Translate to create the "ancient Egyptian" dialogue, and we all know that Google Translate is in no way, shape, or form reliable. A person who speaks fluent arabic would likely not be able to fully decipher the text seen in bold above, as it makes just about no sense. So I'm just gonna call it ancient Egyptian and hope no one gets pissed at me over it.**

 **I'd love to hear any feedback or criticism.** **Review(?)**


	2. Release The Panic

**A/N:** **Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 **Release the Panic**

* * *

 **"Mmil' mae alkrahy; alssamah laha tastahlik lakum."**

Again the voice spoke to Ryou.

Two days had passed since his Soul Room escapade, and that chilling voice had yet to leave the empty void that had become his mind. It spoke to him in that foreign tongue, whispering in his ear and driving him to the brink of insanity. Never once did it stop; not a minute could pass without it speaking to Ryou.

He'd not a wink of sleep in this period of time either, instead laying awake in the wee hours of the morning, clutching his hands over his ears and praying to whatever Gods may be up there for the voice to simply cease its constant chattering. He blamed his recent mood swings on this lack of sleep and massive increase in anxiety. The fact that Marik Ishtar had begun making more frequent appearances wasn't helping much either.

 **"Mmil' mae alkrahy."**

Ryou bit his lip, his head giving a painful throb. It was angering him, this voice, which was an accomplishment all in itself, for Bakura Ryou was not the type to anger easily, if at all. He wanted to punch something, kick something, throw something; anything to express just how fed up he was; fed up with Marik, with his father and with hearing things.

 **"Alsamah laha tastahlik lakum."**

Trembling, his hand gripped the pencil it was holding tightly. His eyes darted around the classroom, to the teacher, to Yuugi. Two desks ahead, one to the right, head laying in his folded arms. He was sleeping, it appeared, though Ryou supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised. Such an occurrence was typical with the boys of the Yuugi-tachi.

The teacher is standing before the blackboard, her red-painted lips moving, though no sound reaches Ryou's ears. It was as though the world had been muted, the only noises to be heard being that incessant mantra being repeated in his head.

 **"Mmil' mae alkrahy."**

Suddenly his head snapped back to Yuugi, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits; if he were able to think clearly, he would have realized that he'd never made such an expression in his life. How dare he lie to him like that! Yuugi had promised, he'd promised to protect Ryou. Where was this protection now?! Protection from this voice, from the disgusting blank space that resided in his head, from the insanity that was slowly eating away at him. He was going mad, he knew, and the one person who was sworn to protect him was currently drooling on his desktop, sleeping peacefully.

 **"Alsamah laha tastahlik lakum."**

'If I weren't in school right now, so help me I'd wring that scrawny little neck of his-'

Ryou gasped, his pencil snapping in half in his hand. What was he thinking?! Yuugi was his friend, hell, he was his best friend, and here he was mentally threatening him!

Since he was young, he'd never once had a single violent thought. He was raised proper, always used polite mannerisms and smiled brightly even when distressed. Yet now, for some reason, he was imagining his own pale hands wrapped around his best friend's neck and squeezing, squeezing just a tad harder, squeezing until he stopped giving him that pleading look with his wide violet eyes, squeezing until he stopped twitching. _Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing._

It was horrifying.

"I'm going to be sick," he uttered aloud, quickly standing from his desk and sprinting from the classroom. The floor shifted below his feet, walls twisting and jumping in front of him. A squeal slipped from his lips and he skidded to a halt, falling flat on his rear. Pain shot up his spine at the collision with hard wood, and he cried out, covering his ears with his hands as disgusting laughter filled his head and he clenched his eyes shut.

Something grabbed him below the arms, hoisting him back onto his feet and shaking him, though he refused to open his eyes. Images flashed through his mind; blood, fire, people screaming and running, people screaming and running from the blood and fire, the blood and fire covering the people, consuming them whole. It was terrifying, these images, these visions, yet they refused to stop.

The voice was speaking again through its maniacal laughter, and it was the last thing Ryou heard before darkness engulfed him.

 **"Alsamah laha tastahlik lakum."**

* * *

 _"Momma, where are we going?"_

 _A woman, familiar yet not at the same time, glanced over her shoulder at him, her grey eyes watery and wide. She looked fearful, petrified, her hand gripping his tightly, yet she smiled at him gently, comfortingly. "We're going somewhere nice, honey," she replied in a language that wasn't English, though somehow he understood her perfectly. He wondered who she was. "A trip," she continued as she once again faced forward, tugging him along as she strode briskly, "I'm sure you'll like it there."_

 _"Momma, you seem scared."_

 _He didn't realize he was speaking, yet he was, as if he was on autopilot. This time the woman, apparently his mother, didn't spare him even a glance. She instead continued moving, her feet kicking up dust from the sand below. Sand? "I'm not scared, honey." Her voice trembled._

 _"Momma, don't lie."_

 _She didn't respond._

 _"Momma, I hear screaming."_

 _As soon as the words left his lips, the noise registered in his ears. It was indeed screaming, clear as day yet slightly distant. He glanced to the side, noticing other people a few yards away. A small family, all attired strangely in poorly sewn rags and bland headdresses, the mother sobbing and clutching a bundle to her chest, the father whispering her reassurances._

 _He noticed they were in some kind of village._

 _His mother only quickened her pace. "Ignore it. Just keep walking."_

 _"Momma, I'm scared."_

 _Her hand squeezed his, and he yelped slightly in pain. "Don't be scared. It'll be okay," she said, and then her voice dropped to a whisper, "I'll make sure it's okay."_

 _"Momma, where's papa?"_

 _She didn't have time to answer. Shouts then rang out from behind them, mingling with the ever present screaming. His mother glanced behind them, her eyes widening further, and she opened her mouth, whether to speak or to scream, he didn't quite know. Before he could find out, an arrow shot straight through her forehead, and she slumped to the ground lifelessly._

 _He stood there, frozen in place, tiny hand still wrapped in her's. "M-momma..." Another arrow shot towards the two, impaling the boy in his lower arm just above his right wrist. Crying out, he yanked his now bloody hand from his mother's, whipping around._

 _A hoard of men charged at him, a large fire raging behind them, swords and spears and bows drawn and aimed in his direction. Hesitating only a moment, he yanked the arrow from his arm and ran, darting behind buildings and around houses. Twice he tripped; the first over his own clumsiness and haste to escape, and the second over the corpse of a woman. Terrified, he scrambled to his feet once more and hid inside of a nearby building._

 _Once inside, he crawled into a small cupboard, knees pulled to his chest, and silently weeped._

* * *

Ryou awoke with a start. Tears ran down his cheeks, his hands fisted in the covers laying limply on his lap. Quiet greeted him and he welcomed it gladly, thankful for the peace. Taking in his surroundings, he noted that he wasn't in his own bed.

The white walls were decorated in health posters, each one displaying something he doubted anyone actually cared about. There were two empty beds to his left, a thin sheet of paper draped over the mattresses, and further on a plump woman dressed in a long white coat was seated at a desk.

The school infirmary, he realized with a soft sigh. Wiping at his tear-stained face, Ryou pushed off his blanket, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, moving across the near empty room. He paused just before the nurse's desk and checked in with her. She told him to "go home and get some rest," to which he happily agreed.

Just as he was about to leave, she called out to him. "Oh, and there was a boy here earlier, the one that brought you in. A foreign kid with long blonde hair. He seemed pretty worried about you."

He blinked. _'Marik'_. "A-ah, yes... That would be my..." Ryou bit his lip. _'My stalker'._ "...friend."

After that, he hurriedly fled from the room.

* * *

The next day was a Thursday, and a well-rested Brit entered the school with his normal kind smile gracing his lips. Yuugi stood by his shoe locker waiting for him, and when their gazes met he tapped a finger to his ear. Ryou resisted a frown as he hesitantly lifted a hand to do the same. "Good morning, Yuugi-kun..." He murmured softly once he reached earshot, busying himself with removing his shoes.

"Morning!" The short boy replied cheerily. "How are you feeling, Bakura-kun? I heard about what happened yesterday. To faint in school like that..." He tilted his head in curiousity, violet eyes sparkling like large gemstones. Thoughts of yesterday flooded Ryou's head; thoughts of what he'd imagined doing to Yuugi.

He now allowed his frown to show. "Oh, um, I'm fine... Don't worry about me, Yuugi-kun," he said, closing his locker. Gripping his briefcase tightly, he made to head to homeroom. He had to get away.

Yuugi called out to him before he could exit the room. "Bakura-kun!" Said boy glanced behind him, pigmentless eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. The tri-color haired teen's lips were pursed in concern. "You know I worry about you..."

Heart thumping hard in his chest, the albino nodded with a small smile. "I know." He turned and left then, one hand lifted to his head, rolling an earring between his thumb and pointer finger idly.

The classroom was bustling when he entered, and he sighed as he plopped into his seat. In the background he could hear Jounouchi arguing with Kaiba Seto, his rival, and Anzu struggling to intervene. A giggle slipped out from under his breath as Jounouchi shrieked an outraged "the fuck did you just call me?!" followed by a loud crashing sound. He went about preparing for first period, removing his notebook and pencil case from his briefcase, before he was rudely interrupted.

 **"'Ana yumkin alshshueur alls..."**

Ryou wanted so badly to slam his head on his desk, to break out into a sobbing mess right there in the classroom. He'd been so relieved; the voice had been nonexistent since he'd awoken in the infirmary just the day before. Yet here it was, back to bring him misery and a painful headache. Already he could feel that cloud covering his thoughts. His eyes roamed to Yuugi, who'd just taken his seat. He couldn't go through that again…

Chouno-sensei entered then, her painted lips pulled down in a strict frown. The classroom fell silent within seconds, even Jounouchi reluctantly shutting his mouth, and she stood to the front of the room as per usual.

What was not usual, however, was what she said. "We have a transfer student joining us today."

The voice laughed darkly in his head.

 **"Waqad bada'at eamaliat alttahawwul balfel... Laqad fat al'awan."**

Chouno-sensei gestured at the door and it slid open, a tall boy striding in. He'd short, choppy white hair tinted an odd lavender that contrasted with his dark tan skin, and ashen grey eyes. Thin and lean, he seemed rather toned, and to Ryou he seemed a bit older, perhaps around eighteen or nineteen rather than sixteen. His dark eyes passed over certain students, lingering on what seemed to be Yuugi, before they settled on Ryou himself. The boy shivered slightly under the intensity of the look.

"Class, this is Akefia Bakura-san. I expect you to treat him nicely."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Thank you to all of the people who have subscribed to this story!**

 **Any feedback or criticism is appreciated. Review(?)**


	3. Fight Inside

**A/N:** **Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 **Fight Inside**

* * *

 _'Momma, please come back. Momma, I'm scared.'_

 _Shoulders trembling, his bare feet padded along the sandy street dyed a deep crimson. Corpses littered the alleyways, strewn about like dirty clothes throughout the small village, and severed limbs and organs lay carelessly on the ground. Cautiously, he stepped around them, trying to look at them as little as possible. Shouts rang out in the distance, the slaughterers slowly but surely gathering the corpses in wagons, bringing them who-knew-where to do who-knew-what._

 _He approached the vaguely familiar body slowly. Dull grey eyes peered at him, reflecting the fear and terror that was once held within them, and dried blood pooled along the tanned face. An arrow was embedded into her cranium, dyeing her silvery hair a clumpy mess of red. He sat down beside her and frowned, brushing loose locks from her deathly face, and despite his overwhelming sorrow, he shed no tears. Eventually he laid himself into the crook of her unnaturally cold arm._

 _Time seemed to be paused then, the crackling of fire and yells of men falling on deaf ears, as he rested one final time in his mother's arms. That is, until the yells grew closer and closer until they were right beside him._

 _Torn from his mother, he cried out to her, hands outstretched towards her lifeless body as two other men began to lift her up onto a nearby wagon. The man holding him grunted out his confusion at his being alive and unsheathed his sword, impaling him in his lower torso despite his screams for mercy. Pain flooded his senses, though it was dulled somehow, as though he wasn't really feeling it, almost dream-like. It wasn't fatal, thankfully, though it hurt. Gasping, he found himself thrown into the wagon atop a mound of the dead. He quickly crawled to his mother._

 _'Momma, it hurts..!'_

 _The wagon was pulled for an unknown amount of time, and he honestly couldn't remember a full five minutes of it. He did remember arriving at whatever destination they had been headed to, and he quickly rolled off the side of the wagon and into the sand. Diving behind a nearby wall, he watched as the men pulled his mother off the pile of bodies, and ignoring his protesting wounds, he followed them into an underground tunnel. She was then herded into a large, dark chamber and thrown into a mass of injured and deceased people who he somehow recognized as fellow villagers. An enormous pot of melted gold stood amidst the room, and to his immense horror, people were being tossed into the liquid one-by-one._

 _Stricken with shock and fear, he could only stare as his mother was thrown in._

 _Like this he stayed for what seemed like hours until finally the final body was added, and the pot was tilted and dumped into a stone engraved with slots._

 _His eyes traveled to the slots at the same moment he heard a clip of a conversation between two nearby men._

 _"...think these Millennium Items will really work?"_

 _"They better, else the Pharaoh will be sorely disappointed. He'll have our heads."_

 _"Plus it'd have been a waste, to wipe out an entire village like that..."_

 _"Remember which village you're speaking of. Kul Elna was home to a bunch of filthy thieves. It was ideal to be rid of them."_

 _"I suppose you're right. No one will miss Kul Elna, that's for sure."_

 _Hearing enough, he turned and left wordlessly, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched._

* * *

Snapping out of his vision, Ryou cried out as his rear collided with the ground. Boisterous laughter sounded from a group of jocks a few yards away and he glanced up, confused brown eyes landing on their larger forms. "W-wha..?"

A hand rested on his shoulder. "You okay, Ryou?" Said albino placed his attention onto the newcomer, meeting the concerned lilac gaze of Marik Ishtar. He frowned and nodded slightly. "Don't pay those jerks any mind, alright? They're not worth it."

Ryou licked his dry lips, averting his gaze. "I... I don't even know what happened..." Too caught up in his daydreaming, he'd completely zoned out. Looking around, he noted that he was in Phys Ed, just as he'd been what he thought was only moments earlier. A tennis ball lay just feet away from him.

"They hit you with a ball. On purpose, might I add," Marik supplied with a dark glare in the boys' direction. They all resumed their game without a sound.

"Bakura-kun!" Yuugi's voice chimed faintly, and standing, Ryou caught sight of the smaller boy trotting towards him, friends in tow. "Bakura-kun, are you okay? You didn't hurt your arm, did you?" Skidding to an abrupt halt before the whitette, the smaller boy sent a distrusting look to Marik before focussing back on Ryou himself.

Fidgeting with the hem of his loose white tee-shirt, he shook his head slowly. "N-no, my arm is fine... I'm just... a bit out of it today... I wasn't paying attention," he admitted with a small frown. By reflex, he drew his hand up to his opposite forearm, fingering at the bandaging. When he gained the courage to look up again, he noticed that the transfer student was once more piercing him with his intense gaze, his ashen eyes boring into the covered wound.

Yuugi, the ever observant one, took notice of this and smiled brightly, gesturing wildly at the newest Egyptian. "Ah, Bakura-kun, have you met Akefia-kun yet? He plays Duel Monsters too, can you believe it?! It's a small world after all!" He threw his hands in the air and twirled, his excitement as vibrant as his hair.

Ryou smiled fondly. "Yes, that is rather fortunate for you, Yuugi-kun. I take it you two have already become acquainted fairly?" His eyes roamed back to Bakura; how odd it was to refer to someone else by his own surname, he mused mentally. The teen seemed rather introverted and crude, though somehow he looked almost sad to Ryou.

 **"Kayf masallia; athnyn min wajhak liwajh kama kunt tatahawwal bbt' 'iilaa wasallam."**

Flinching at the voice, he internally screamed and pleaded for whatever was inside his head to get out. So desperately did he want to curl into a ball on the ground, to clutch his hands over his ears and scream until his throat was raw, to claw at his face, dig into his flesh until he could physically pry out what was haunting him. However, he did none of this, instead smiling a fake little smile at Bakura.

And then suddenly, Bakura smiled back at him, his darker lips upturning into a minuscule little quirk. "Hello, Bakura Ryou-kun," he greeted in a smooth, deep, and flowing voice that carried the slight hint of an accent.

That's when he saw them. Dark shadows, darker than the night and louder than a freight train, clutching at the ground, the air, people's legs even, screeching obnoxiously. Ryou winced and bit at his lower lip, trying in vain to drown them out. A part of him thought that perhaps they'd always been there, lurking around unnoticed by the world.

Then something odd happened. It was simple, really, and he easily passed it off as mere coincidence, but with the flick of his wrist, Bakura swatted at one of the shadows lingering beside his body. The shadow let out a pitiful whine and melted down into the ground, disappearing from sight.

"Are you sure you're alright, Ryou? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

 **"'Ant malak alllusus!" The voice shouted abruptly. "'Ant malak alllusus!"**

Ryou's knees gave out and he screamed, the ear-splitting sound radiating throughout his head. Clutching at his ears, he made known the immense agony that bounced off of his skull and pinched his brain, voice cracking. Something warm seeped over his upper lip and into his gaping mouth, the metallic taste of blood flooding his taste buds; he had a bloody nose, he noted somewhere in the back of his conscious.

 _ **"'ANT MALAK ALLLUSUS!"**_

 _"'Ana malak alllusus!"_ Was the words he screeched just before he slumped to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

* * *

 _"Mama, they killed everyone. Everyone but me," he murmured to the still night sky. "Mama, I'm all alone."_

 _He was met with silence._

 _A shadow merged from the sandstone beneath him slowly and danced at his feet, twining around his ankles and slithering up his leg. It seemed almost to whisper to him. The men had left about an hour ago, and he'd long since moved to sit upon the roof of the small building in which his village's fate had become one with a puddle of gold._

 _He welcomed the termination of that awful silence._

 _ **"You have a cloud of hatred polluting your soul, boy."** The shadow hissed, though its ability to do so didn't surprise him, and somehow he could tell that the shadow was intrigued by this fact. **"You are sorrowful; furious. You seek revenge."**_

 _"You're wrong," he intervened, his tone flat and his eyes eerily calm. "I seek my momma."_

 _The shadow laughed. **"And that's where you are wrong. You seek retribution. You wish to avenge the death of your parents, of your friends and family."**_

 _Swiping a hand at the darkness, he frowned as it refused to leave. He sighed. "Fine. I'll admit you that much. Perhaps I want to make the Pharaoh pay." Gazing off blankly at the sky, he continued only moments later. "Or perhaps I simply wish to die as well. Being alone for the rest of my life doesn't sound very nice..."_

 _ **"You're wrong again,"** the shadow purred, creeping further along the boy's lithe body and seemingly caressing his cheek. **"You're not alone. I'll stay with you for eternity if you so ask."**_

 _"...Really?"_

 ** _"Indeed, really. We may go on grand adventures together, bathe in fortune and riches, drink in the suffering of those who stole your life away. We can even collect the Millennium Items and destroy them. We can set your village free; your family."_**

 _"Momma," he murmured softly. "Momma, I can set you free..?"_

 _ **"You can,"** the shadow responded in place of his beloved mother. **"We can."**_

 _He bit his lip before nodding slowly. "Alright... I trust you."_

 ** _"That's a good boy."_**

 _And suddenly, it slipped into his mouth, nearly choking him as it slid down his throat and invaded his body. **"I will be your darkness,"** it said in his head as he gasped and clutched his neck, **"I will guide you. You will do everything I say."**_

 _"Y-you... You tricked... me..!" He wheezed out between sharp intakes of air._

 ** _"And in return for my guidance, you will set me free when the time comes."_**

* * *

"Is... Is he back?"

Yuugi tilted his head, a frown marring his childish features as he listened to his yami over their mental link. "My other self doesn't sense anything..."

Nodding slightly, Marik clutched at the bridge of his nose. "And you're positive the Pharaoh would know? And he's not just keeping secrets either, right?"

Offended, the tri-color haired boy reeled back as if burned, his teeth grit. "Don't you talk about him like that! If he knew anything, which he would, he wouldn't keep it to himself!" The usually quiet boy shouted angrily, his cheeks flushing and fists clenched at his sides. Ryou didn't think he'd ever seen him so upset, and quite frankly, it scared him.

"Y-Yuugi-kun..."

"Oh, right, my bad," Marik spat, his lilac eyes narrowing and his upper lip curling. "He wouldn't keep it to himself; he'd just have someone brand it onto their fucking back!"

Yuugi glared back at the Egyptian, his fury growing by the second. "Are you seriously still going off about that?! Get over it, Marik!"

A tanned hand flew through the air as Marik made to punch the smaller boy. "Of course I am! My back will only be scarred for the rest of my goddamn life thanks to him!" Before he could plant a single hit on Yuugi, Jounouchi stepped in and caught the fist easily.

"That's enough, Ishtar. Don't make me kick your sorry ass all the way back to Egypt."

Grunting, Marik reluctantly swiped his hand back and flexed his fingers, eyes still locked on the holder of the Millennium Puzzle. The hikari then moved towards Ryou, sitting in the chair closest to his infirmary bed. The nurse had went on lunch break just minutes before, right after the Brit had awoken. Of course, the Yuugi-tachi and the two Egyptians had been waiting for him, and immediately after they'd taken notice of his consciousness they'd broken out into a debate; was Yami Bakura back or not?

"Yuugi-kun... I'm sorry..."

The shortest boy in the room gave a slightly forced smile, but Ryou could see the kindness hidden behind his agitation. "You don't have to be sorry, Bakura-kun... You didn't do anything wrong."

"Ah... Well..." Ryou bit his lip and stared at his hands, interlacing them in his lap idly. "I just... I feel like I should apologize for earlier, for worrying you all..."

Jounouchi moved closer to the edge of the small bed and clamped a hand over his, grinning reassuringly. "Don't mention it, Bakura. We're your friends, it's only natural for us to worry about ya." He glanced over his shoulder then, nodding in the direction of the Egyptian Bakura. "Even Akefia was concerned."

The Egyptian only looked away.

Frowning slightly, Ryou sniffled, fear in his eyes. "I-I just... I don't understand any of this!" He half huffed, half whined at no one in particular. Before, he hadn't wanted to admit to hearing the voice in his head, but now... He was desperate. There was always the possibility that Yami Yuugi could help him somehow, use some Shadow Magic or something.

From across the room, Bakura snorted. "What I don't understand is why you shouted what you did earlier."

The albino blinked in confusion, turning his attention over to the transfer student. To be honest, he didn't quite remember much about what had happened before he'd fainted. All he knew was that the voice had been screaming, screaming loudly and screaming something in ancient Egyptian.

Realization dawned. "You mean... You can speak ancient Egyptian?"

"And you don't. From the way you spoke it, I'd have assumed you did." Bakura replied, his gaze still averted and his face cast in a dim shadow. "But I know better than to think such foolishness."

Ryou bit his lip. "Can you... Is it possible for you to perhaps... tell me what I said?"

 _"'Ana malak alllusus,"_ he reiterated lowly. "It means, _'I am the King of Thieves'_ in English." Despite the astonished reactions from the surrounding Yuugi-tachi, Bakura made no big deal over the fact that he'd just spoken three different languages fluently.

The Brit nodded, knowing only he and Jounouchi would understand, the two of them being the only ones who spoke English aside from Japanese. He shot the blonde a look as if to say "don't tell". There was no way he wanted the rest of the Yuugi-tachi to think he was insane. Jounouchi's jaw clenched, though he made no move to translate. "I didn't know you could speak English," Ryou murmured lowly, letting the topic slip away.

"Hn."

 **"Wa'ant taerif 'ann 'ana hu, la lak, alls?"**

Wincing, Ryou cowered at the sudden intrusion in his ears. "A-ah..." He looked to Bakura for a moment, contemplating, before fixing his gaze back on his lap almost nervously as he repeated the phrase. _"W-wa'ant taerif 'ann 'ana hu, la lak, alls?"_

The Egyptian's head snapped towards him, eyes dark. His face remained passive, however, and when he spoke, it was low and calm. He offered no translation, but a response. _"Tarak mudayifi wahdah."_ Pushing himself off of the wall he'd been leaning on, he swiftly left the room with a quiet "see you guys tomorrow".

No one spoke for a while after that, and soon everyone had left until only Marik and Yuugi remained. The shorter boy was the first to speak. "If my other self figures anything out, we'll let you know, okay Bakura-kun?" Tapping a finger to his ear, he smiled at Ryou and turned on his heel to take his leave as well.

The albino didn't do the same.

 **"Nahn bihajat 'iilana tasrie eamaliat hatta alan waqad ead alls. Yumkin li alkharab khatati."**

And for some reason, Ryou understood part of what was spoken in his head, though he wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. After all, it had something to do with speeding up a process. But now another question arose; what was this process?

Without fully realizing it, he reached up to his ears and gripped his earrings.

He was angry, so horribly upset, and he didn't know why nor what to do about it. Emotion flooded his entire being; hatred, irritation, hurt, rage. It pooled from the depths of his soul, drowning his thoughts out and taking control. For some reason, all he could see in his mind was Yuugi; or rather, his yami. He saw him in a red hue, saw him and wanted nothing more than to hurt him, to end him. To do something horrible. Something a hikari should never even think of doing.

Growling low in his throat, he ripped the golden trinkets from his ears, tearing the skin of his lobes in half.

Marik spoke not a single word, simply watching as Ryou had grown accustomed to.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Alright! I smell some plot!**

 **Any feedback or criticism is appreciated. Review(?)**


	4. Of These Chains

**A/N:** **Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

 **Of These Chains**

* * *

Marik Ishtar was a poison.

It was the eyes. Those lavender orbs that pierced through one's soul, that sparkled with kindness, those were his weapons. The Millennium Rod was only a more convenient toy, a magical way to force someone to do your bidding for you. But Marik's eyes - those were the true danger.

A master of manipulation, Marik was someone to be utmost cautious around, to keep your guard up and avoid as much as possible. His eyes would seduce you as he crept into your heart, into your mind, revealing your secrets and inner desires, exposing your very core unto himself.

Marik was evil.

Ryou knew this. Truly, he did, for he had bore witness to it first-hand in Battle City; back when Marik took on the alias Namu and used him as bait to befriend the Yuugi-tachi, when he'd cut open his arm as a part of that ploy, willing to sacrifice him in order to win a mere duel. He knew he couldn't trust the Egyptian, he knew he should run, hide, keep as far away from him as physically possible.

But that was just it. He couldn't.

Marik had revealed to him a side of himself that Ryou wasn't aware existed, or was even capable of existing. He was kind and caring, sympathetic. He worried about Ryou, showed genuine concern for his safety and well-being. It seemed so real, and he wanted to believe that it was; it just didn't seem possible for it to be anything but. His eyes showed no signs of lying, no signs of malice or trickery. It was sincere, or at least Ryou perceived it as such.

For the past two days, Marik had turned up at Ryou's door, offering words of kindness and friendly smiles. He'd ask how the albino was faring, his ears and arm the way that they were (though he didn't directly mention them), not to mention the strange occurrences that had been happening as of late. The two would sit on the living room couch and talk for about an hour or so, drinking the tea Ryou had fixed for them and chatting aimlessly about games and school. It was nice, the Brit had thought on more than one occasion. It was almost like they were friends, something he had severely lacked throughout his life thanks to his personality and the spirit of the Ring; a rather unfortunate combination, if you asked him.

In all honesty, Ryou didn't want to trust Marik. He really didn't, not with the other's history. But there was just something about him that charmed Ryou into believing anything he said, that made him smile at him whenever he gave one first, and sometimes even if he didn't. Against his will, he'd begun to like Marik Ishtar, someone whom he'd previously considered a threat.

On the Monday following the earring incident, Marik had appeared at Ryou's apartment just as the boy had been slipping into his shoes, preparing to begin the trek to school. He'd been surprised, to say the least, but that hadn't stopped him from smiling and nodding when Marik asked if he'd appreciate a bit of company for the walk.

"I don't think I would mind that," he murmured, fidgeting with the handle of his briefcase idly. Other than Yuugi, the Egyptian boy was the only person he found that he was close to. Perhaps it was a hikari thing, he mused mentally. Perhaps because they'd shared similar pasts, however different event-wise, they had some type of connection in their souls. It wouldn't surprise him.

Marik nodded, his dark lips upturned in a gentle quirk as he gestured outside. "So," he began as they set out, the cool morning air cascading over their bodies like a fresh, comforting blanket, "how are your ears?" It was a topic he'd avoided bringing up directly in the days prior, but both teens knew they couldn't keep silent about it forever. They were only delaying the inevitable.

There was a lack of chirping birds this morning, and it left Ryou feeling a bit disappointed. He liked their little melodies, the way their voices bounced off of the trees and travelled in waves until they reached his ears. "They still hurt a bit, but it's nothing I can't handle." Ryou liked to consider himself a fairly strong person, if only mentally rather than physically. It was one of the few things he could honestly say he took pride in. No matter how many times he was betrayed, how many people walked in and out of his life or stayed only to ruin it, he always remained unbroken and with a smile.

It was something he knew his yami never liked about him. He despised the fact that he couldn't break Ryou, couldn't bend him to his will and force him to submit. Whenever the hikari would fight back against him, he would always lose control of his already barely suppressed anger, spitting profanities and cruel words. Though he never laid a hand on him, never physically hurt him save for the few times he would dig the spikes on the Ring into his abdomen. But even despite this, he never touched a finger to the one he called Yadonushi, a feat that often made Ryou confused.

For such a violent and terrible person, the spirit never cared to hurt him.

"That's good, then." Giving a relieved laugh, Marik hefted his briefcase up over his shoulder, resting his wrist just at the crook of his neck. "You had me worried the other night. Suddenly tearing those earrings out like that..." His eyes shifted to the side at Ryou, giving him a curious look. "Why exactly did you do that, anyways?"

Ryou sighed, glancing down at his feet and the cement that they danced along in his meander. "I... I don't know. Something odd has been happening lately, but... I haven't the slightest clue as to what that may be."

In his head, the voice - the one that had yet to relinquish its place in his mind - gave a short laugh.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Marik pursed his lips, his gaze turning skyward as though he were looking for answers in the clouds rather than from Ryou. "I can't say I'll understand it or be able to give any advice, but it might help to get some things off your chest."

It was so genuine, in Ryou's eyes. To think that such a caring and kind person was known by many as a terror seemed kind of silly during moments like these. "Thank you, though I would rather keep this to myself for now. Just until I can figure a few things out." He smiled, touched that Marik would express concern for him.

Maybe he was changing.

A relaxing silence fell between them for the rest of the walk, and it wasn't broken until they were entering the school gates. "Ryou," Marik blurted quite suddenly, pausing in place and clasping his hand around the other's wrist. "Do you... Do you ever miss Bakura?"

Taken by surprise by the question, Ryou's lips parted in a stunned gape. What should he say? Did he even have an answer for that? Of course it had crossed his mind before that perhaps he did, because there had been numerous times that it seemed like he did. But each and every time he'd denied it, fervently wanting to be happy that the curse that lingered over his life was gone, possibly never to return.

In the end, he wasn't happy after all.

His yami may be a bad person, a thief and a murderer without any form of empathy, but he was still a part of Ryou whether he liked it or not. He was the other half of his soul, his darker half, and without him it felt like something was missing. Something important, something he simply couldn't live without. And maybe he couldn't. After all, that voice had only appeared after the spirit had left.

Maybe he was finally losing that strength he so valued.

"...Yes. I do." Ryou murmured after a long pause, his eyes downcast and his thoughts distracted.

Without a word, Marik released his hold on his wrist and strolled off, heading into the school and leaving Ryou standing at the gate with a confused expression marring his gentle features.

* * *

"Bakura! It's your duty today!"

Blinking, Ryou raised his gaze from his briefcase to the head of the classroom, spotting the characters of his name scrawled out on the blackboard in white chalk. He sighed and nodded, having wanted to go home as soon as school was dismissed but knowing he couldn't skip out on his duties. "Yes, I understand," he murmured in response, sliding out of his seat and making his way to the front of the room.

It was just in the midst of clearing the blackboard that he noticed he wasn't alone in the classroom. Everyone should have left by then, save for the other person on duty, and out of curiosity he glanced over his shoulder to see who the second student was.

The first thing that caught his attention was the lavender-tinted hair falling scruffily to the other boy's shoulders. The other Bakura had duty as well, he noted with a small frown. Tucking his hair behind his ear, he turned back and stood on his tiptoes to reach the very top of the board, occasionally giving a small hop.

"Here," that accented voice said from behind him as a tanned hand swiped the eraser from his own paler one. The silhouette of someone much larger than Ryou covered his own shadow, the body heat from the older boy radiating throughout his backside due to their close proximity. "I'm taller, so go do something else while I handle this." Akefia gave a half smile when Ryou met eyes with him, his scar crinkling a bit with the action. Some part of him noted that it looked rather forced.

Ryou nodded after a long moment, having quite embarrassingly frozen in place, and stepped away from the board and moved to collect any left behind items from around the room. "Um..." The Brit bit his lower lip, pearly white teeth leaving little imprints into the delicate pinkish skin. "Akefia-san, you're from Egypt, right? Do you know anything about the spirits from your culture, by any chance?" He thought it might come across as a bit weird for him to ask such a random thing, but it was something he felt he needed to press into. It was something he needed to know. The spirit, that is; he needed to know more about the spirit of the Ring.

 **"How ironic that you go to him,"** the voice mused, and Ryou took a moment to be startled. After all, he'd never been able to understand what the thing was saying to him, but now it were as clear as if it were speaking English or even Japanese. **"Ah, I see that you can finally understand me. It's about time."**

Deciding to push this new discovery aside until a later time, perhaps for when he got home, the albino refocused his attention on Akefia, who appeared to be thinking his query over. It was another minute or so before the Egyptian spoke, now standing by the trashcan as he removed the bag within. "Well, there are a lot of things I could reply with, so perhaps you should be more specific."

"A-ah, yes, that would probably make sense to do," Ryou mumbled, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment. "Um... Ancient spirits. Actually, scratch that. Do you know anything about the Millennium Items? Maybe how they were created? I've researched it before multiple times, but... I can't even find a trace of their existence." Sighing, the smaller boy crossed the room and placed a few things into the trash bag before nodding for Akefia to tie it closed.

He figured he probably shouldn't jump directly into the subject of spirits, as he'd likely then have to give some sort of explanation as to why he wanted the information. While he didn't take Akefia as the type to pry, he'd rather not explain that he'd been possessed by an evil spirit for almost half of his life.

There was a pause for a moment as the Egyptian considered the question, his eyes fixed solely on his hands as they did their work. "They were created in a ritual during ancient times. Ninety nine souls were required as a sacrifice, and the Pharaoh of that time period chose to annihilate a village of lowly thieves in order to get them." Akefia cleared his throat, straightening himself up and tossing the bag to the door to take out later. "They're made out of sacred gold and the souls and melted down bodies of that village. Is that what you wanted to know?" He tossed the albino a rather annoyed look, his eyes lidded as though he was incredibly bored.

Ryou glanced away, not really caring for the stare he was getting, and shook his head. There was one more thing he wanted to know. "Were there perhaps... Is there a chance that someone might have survived the ritual? From the village, I mean?"

He wondered if maybe he'd said something wrong, because in that moment Akefia's expression shifted to disbelief, his eyes seeming to gleam with some unknown emotion. "...No," he responded finally, voice hesitant but firm. "No, it's not possible." Ryou didn't get a chance to respond before Bakura left the room, grabbing the trash bag on his way out.

'Then what are these dreams? How did I know about the ritual and the village before I was told about them? If I didn't make them up, then surely this person in my dreams is real as well...'

* * *

 _He was older now, he noticed as he gazed down at his body. Smooth muscles lined his now exposed torso, his limbs longer and more defined. Scars covered the expanse of his exposed skin, peeking out from beneath his open tunic and trailing along his dark bronze skin, little white lines and blotches that stood out among the sea of brown._

 _It appeared he was in a village based on his surroundings, though wherever he was it most certainly wasn't lived in. The ruins of buildings lined the streets, all charred remains and blackened rubble. There wasn't a sound to be heard nor any movement to be seen, as though the world itself was dead._

 _Idly, he wondered how much time had passed since the last dream in which he'd lived as this Egyptian character, what had happened to him over that blank time period. He wondered who he was, what his name was, what he was feeling. He wondered if he was real or not, Akefia's words still with him even as he slept and lived on in this little scenario his mind had set up for him._

 _Among the silence and stillness of his surroundings, he noticed something out of the corner of his vision as he rounded a broken down building. A flame, bright and burning with a passion, flickered and danced in a ring-like shape, though no wood seemed to be keeping it alive. Cautiously, he crept closer, his guard up as he approached the fire and found a boy sitting just behind the orange wall of heat that circled around him like a shield._

 _He had strange golden hair that fell in shaggy tresses to a few inches above his shoulders, though a few strands at the nape of his neck flowed down in a longer tail bound by what seemed to be a straw of some sort and only ended at his waist. His raggy tunic barely covered his arms and legs which were wrapped tightly in the bandages he'd seen on mummies all the way down to his fingers and toes. He'd his back turned to him, but from the little patch of skin he could see of his ears and cheeks, he determined that the boy was a foreigner, for his skin was a startlingly pale whitish peach color._

 _"...Boy," he called, and instantly the fire blared higher and brighter, as if it had a mind of its own. Taking a step back, he pulled a dagger from within his shenti and held it up, though he honestly didn't know if such a weapon would possibly work against fire, something he had little experience with as of yet._

 _The boy lifted his head from its position on his knees, slowly turning his neck to face the Egyptian with crimson eyes as red as the most magnificent rubies. His face was smooth and thin, and was indeed a creamy pale color._

 _Through his muddled conscious, Ryou realized he looked scarily familiar._

 _"Boy," the Egyptian native repeated, "who are you?" The dagger that his tanned fingers were wrapped around glinted in the light from the flames that licked at the dry desert air, flashing in warning._

 _There was no response for a long period of time, and he began to grow impatient, his fingers clenching around the hilt of his weapon as the minutes wore on. Alas, the boy parted his lips and let his voice spill out, the accent he'd expected surprisingly faint._

 _"I am Jono. And you are?"_

 _The fire slowly drowned out into nothing, dissipating into the air as if it had never been there in the first place. Jono's red eyes fixated on the dagger, as if to say 'I put my weapon away, now it's your turn', and the Egyptian did so after a moment of hesitation._

 _"...You may call me Bakura."_

 _Jono lifted his golden eyebrows, his lips pursing oddly as he repeated the name, dragging out each syllable much like a child would. "Ba-ku-ra."_

* * *

Ryou awoke with a start, a strangled gasp catching in his throat and causing him to double over coughing.

The dreams... They made more sense now, but at the same time they were more confusing than ever. The person he'd been dreaming about this entire time had been his yami, of all people, the one who called himself Bakura, something that was recently unbeknownst to Ryou. His other half had been through all that, among other things; he was the sole survivor of the village sacrificed in the ritual to create the Millennium Items - Kul Elna, if he remembered correctly from a previous dream. No wonder his yami was so... Well, _dark_.

It made sense now why Yami Bakura wanted to kill Yuugi's yami, the son of the Pharaoh from his time who ruined the course of his entire life, why he was so desperate to collect the seven Items. Plus, if he was correct, then the spirit - or Bakura, now that he knew it was actually his name and not just something he'd stolen from Ryou - was also possessed by the same shadow that Ryou was; the voice in his head. If it had the same effects on Bakura that it did for him, then that surely wouldn't help his thirst for revenge.

But what didn't make sense was... This Jono character, firstly. Ryou was sure of it; Jono was the past life of his friend Jounouchi Katsuya. There were distinct differences between them, but there was no doubt that they were one and the same. But what connection did Bakura have with Jounouchi in their previous lifetime?

Secondly, why exactly was he dreaming of the spirit's time in Egypt?

* * *

 **A/N:** **Any feedback or criticism is appreciated. Review(?)**


	5. Faceless

**A/N:** **Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 **Faceless**

* * *

Ryou, who had been roused at the early hour of three in the morning from his dream, had been unable to fall back to sleep. He tossed and he turned, but eventually he settled for staring up at the ceiling pointlessly. No matter how hard he tried to focus, it seemed near impossible to get his mind to stay on a single subject.

He was tired, so very tired. Exhausted both physically and mentally. He was tired of being confused and scared, of not knowing things and of being the target of the universe's cruelty. What could he have possibly done in a past life to deserve such bad karma? It wasn't fair - nothing about his life ever had been. He had always tried to be the best person he could be. He was polite and kind, never committing any crimes or getting into trouble. He had good grades in school and people he could call friends, and he always tried to keep a positive attitude. It had always been that way, so why did he get the horrible misfortune that he did? Ryou didn't want to be the vessel to an evil spirit, he didn't want to be nothing more than a body, an empty shell to be used and disposed of like a toy.

He didn't want to be a hikari. He never asked for the Ring or the spirit that came with it. Bakura had always been a burden to him, always getting in the way of his happiness and destroying any chance of friendship he came across. Bakura was his personal curse, never to show mercy and never to leave.

But he had left. He was assumed for dead, or at the very least he was buried deep within the Shadow Realm. And in a way, that hurt. Despite everything Bakura had done, both to him and those around him, he was still the only constant person in his life. While others came and went and stomped on his heart with each abandonment, the spirit had never left him and most certainly stayed by his side. He'd protected him from danger and harm, looked out for him. Even with all the terrible things he'd done, he was still his other half, and he wasn't all bad - at least, in Ryou's opinion. He was probably just hurt because of his past, and even though it was reckless, he wanted to forgive the spirit.

Ryou almost wanted him back. They could work things out, maybe even become friends. At least if he were here, he would be safe, and there wouldn't be a voice in his head that made him insane.

Was he insane? He felt insane. The voice, the violence and the dreams - all of it was just madness, and it was driving him crazy.

His alarm chose that time to go off, blaring in his ear and scaring him to the point of nearly falling off of his bed. Taking a moment to collect himself, he untangled his legs from the sheets and pulled himself to his closet, throwing his uniform on sluggishly. Despite the rather rude awakening only hours prior, he refused to miss school. His attendance was something he valued, and some sleeplessness wouldn't stop him from keeping a decent record.

It was when he was in the kitchen munching dazedly on a burnt piece of toast that there was a knock on the door. Glad to get away from the food that made him queasy, Ryou made his way to the door of the apartment to let Marik in. The Egyptian noticed the dark circles under his eyes immediately, his expression turning from friendly to concerned faster than the albino could blink.

"What happened? Are you not sleeping?"

Sighing, Ryou glanced down at the floor for a moment before shrugging in defeat. "I don't really know how it happened... But lately I've been having these… dreams. About Bakura. They… well, they keep me up. You know - thinking." He turned, gesturing for the other to follow him into the apartment and leading him to the kitchen.

"A lot has been happening lately. I... I know I am not very well acquainted with you, as I spent more time with Bakura, but... this doesn't seem very like you. Acting out violently and impulsively, not sleeping, fainting randomly..." Marik frowned, sitting down at the table and crossing his arms over his chest. "Something is wrong."

"I-I know..." Of course he knew. How could he possibly not? Everything that had been happening lately was quite obviously out of the ordinary, and he wanted more than anything to figure out exactly what these things meant, why they were happening. "These dreams I've been having… I think they're memories. Bakura's memories. Of his life in Egypt. Of why he's so... himself, I suppose. And it seems like, since I've been having them, his feelings towards Yuugi have been bleeding into myself. I can't even look at him without... feeling this immense hatred."

Marik blinked, looking at the table blankly for a long moment before straightening up, his face alight with realization. "Is there a chance... That is, could you possibly be... merging with Bakura?" At Ryou's incredulous stare, he continued. "I-I mean, you're getting his memories and emotions, right? Is there a chance that when he... died... er, disappeared, that he maybe left a piece of himself behind? And now that piece is _combining_ with you? It... made more sense in my head, I guess."

 **"This friend of yours is quite intelligent."**

He was going to be sick. Violently sick.

It did make sense. Everything had started then, on that day at that time. It had all started with one single mistake, an accident, a foolish move on his part.

"His... His Soul Room." Ryou trembled with fear, with horror. "I-I... When you almost hit me the other day... I panicked and accidentally sealed myself into my mind. I o-opened... I opened his Soul Room." He gulped, closing his eyes for a moment to try and calm himself. "There was this entity, a shadow, that attacked me. It slipped down my throat - no, not my throat, my _soul's_ throat. I-it... Oh Gods, it's i-inside of me... Inside my _soul_..!"

Marik said nothing as Ryou stumbled to his feet, his chair crashing to the ground and his legs giving out. He fell, scrambling on his hands and knees to the bathroom. Vomit rose in his throat rapidly, burning him from the inside out. He'd just made it to the toilet when the bile forced itself past his lips, spilling out as tears streamed down his face, sobs mingling with the gagging and disgusting retching sounds.

The thought of turning into someone else was terrifying, to say the least. And that person was his yami, of all people, someone who was probably one of the worst people to exist. A murderer - he would become a murderer, a thief, and who knew what else. And Yuugi... he would come to hate his best friend, want to kill him and the other soul that inhabited his body. Perhaps worse yet, Yuugi would come to hate him.

It hurt, it hurt so badly. He'd never been so sick in his entire life; sick with fear. All he could do was spit out the disgusting liquids into the toilet, crying his eyes out, while Marik sat silently in the other room as if nothing was happening at all.

* * *

 _The tears never stopped rolling, drowning his face in their sorrowful rivers. He tried to keep quiet, to keep his voice from spilling out in little cracks and sobs, but the effort was in vain._

 _"Stop crying. You look utterly pathetic."_

 _He lifted his head slowly, the task difficult as it felt much heavier than it should have been. Through his blurred vision, through the tears and the distortion and the burning, he could make out white. When he realized who was standing before him, witnessing him in such a state, he could only bow his head in shame. "G-go away, Bakura. I d-don't wish to see anyone right now..!"_

 _"On the contrary," the other murmured, kneeling down with a rather bored expression, "if you were to close your eyes, you wouldn't see me, now would you?"_

 _"...Leave."_

 _Bakura huffed, pursing his lips in thought. "...Should you choose to do so, I think I could spare some time to listen to you speak. I'm feeling rather generous today," he said after a long pause._

 _It was an offer. A rare offer, at that, for Bakura wasn't one to throw around an ear at anyone. The crying one looked up again, his bleary eyes wide with shock. "Y-you... Bakura..." He whimpered, grabbing one of the other man's hands in his and clutching it in a death grip._

 _"I never said you could do that," the yami sneered, trying to swipe his hand away and failing._

 _"P-please... He..." He gulped, his tears doubling. It was so disgusting, so repulsive and sickening. He could barely think about it, and now he wanted to tell someone else? "...Please, y-you have to help me kill him..! He-"_

* * *

"Bakura Ryou, detention! If I catch you sleeping in class again, it'll be an instant suspension, do I make myself clear?"

Ryou squeaked, clutching his head where the ruler had hit him. Nodding fervently, the Brit breathed a sigh of relief when Chouno-sensei turned back to the board, glancing down at his blank notebook page.

Another dream. Only this one seemed different than the others. Bakura appeared to be in Ryou's body this time, meaning it had to have been a recent memory, though the person who'd been crying was blurred out. Perhaps it was Jounouchi, he thought idly, glancing at his blonde friend who sat across the room. Though he honestly couldn't picture Jounouchi crying to Bakura about anything; despite whatever relationship they may have had in their past life, Jounouchi hated Bakura with a passion in their current one.

The rest of his classes were spent thinking - thinking about the dreams, the voice, and the transformation into the spirit of the Ring. Thankfully no one had really questioned his obvious exhaustion, save for the Yuugi-tachi. By the time classes had ended, Ryou was packing up his supplies into his briefcase when he suddenly remembered he was given a detention. The last to leave the classroom aside from the students on duty, he slowly made his way down to the designated room that served as the detention room.

But before he could get very far, he overheard clips of a conversation that made him pause.

"-need to bring your grades up. You've only been here less than a week and already you're bound to fail most of your classes. It's rather ridiculous, don't you think? You're - what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Yet you can't even do the simplest of schoolwork."

"Have you considered that perhaps I don't care as to whether or not I fail?"

It was Akefia Bakura and Chouno-sensei.

"Oh, please," the teacher scoffed. "I can tell by the mere look on your face half the time that you haven't the slightest clue what I'm talking about in class. And don't think I didn't notice your lack in ability to read or write; the basics are even difficult for you. It's as though you never got past kindergarten. Tell me, how did you manage to scrape your way into high school."

Akefia growled under his breath, followed by an incredulous gasp from Chouno-sensei. "Isn't this harassment? I have no doubt that you could get in trouble for this."

Chouno tapped her foot against the wooden floor, her heels making obnoxious clacking noises. "This isn't a matter of teacher-student bullying. I'm simply pointing out that you're going to fail this grade at this rate." From where Ryou peeked around the corner, he could see the slightest hint of a smirk ghosting her red lips. "We'll see how far you get, Akefia-kun."

She left then, leaving Akefia scowling in the midst of the hallway. Shaking his head in mild disbelief, Ryou approached the Egyptian hesitantly. "U-um, Akefia-san... Do you... perhaps need a tutor?" Why was he offering this? He had enough problems of his own, and he didn't need tutoring a foreign student to add to that list. But there was something telling him that he needed to volunteer, that he needed to befriend this boy. Something in his soul, maybe? "I-I would be willing to-"

"Don't bother," Akefia muttered, pushing past Ryou and making his way down the hall. Ryou watched with a frown, clutching his briefcase close to his chest in hurt. Even after the spirit was gone, he couldn't make any friends. Sure, there was Marik, but he'd come to know him through his yami in the first place. However, before the Egyptian could exit the hallway, he paused, glancing over his shoulder with those cold grey eyes of his. "...Thank you, though. I appreciate the offer, Y-..."

And then Akefia was gone, leaving the Brit confused. There was something more he was going to say, something he wanted to call him, perhaps? Ryou shook his head, turning on his heel and resuming his course to the detention room.

He must've forgotten his name.

* * *

 _The dunes scattered and reformed in turn with each other, swaying back and forth - a playful waltz, and the entirety Kemmet was the dance floor, the wind the music without a rhythm or beat. A sandstorm, however minor it may be, had struck in the early morning, plaguing the land and sky with its rapid torrent and relentless assault. The air was stickily warm, the type that clung to one's skin and brought on a river of sweat._

 _Bakura hated sandstorms. The seemingly endless blizzard of pelting sand, the way that the amplified heat made him sick and dizzy; it was an inconvenience, yes, but it was also an annoyance. Storms made travelling much more difficult, something he most certainly didn't need under normal circumstances, let alone one such as this. He had extra baggage on this journey, an extra mouth to feed and a body to occasionally carry._

 _Glancing not for the first time at Jono, the thief discreetly tugged his headdress further over his head and licked his teeth._

 _It had probably been a foolish decision to drag the red-eyed boy along with him, but he couldn't very well leave him alone in his slaughtered village. Perhaps it was because he felt as though he related to Jono - after all, their pasts were fairly similar in a tragic, devastating way - or perhaps it was because he'd grown lonely over the years. He was only fifteen, certainly an age at which he would desire friendship or any sort of human contact, really, especially after seven years of being completely and utterly alone._

 _Jono was a foreigner, though from where exactly he originated Bakura didn't quite know, and he most definitely stuck out among the dark haired and skinned citizens of Kemmet, something that would serve as a major handicap in the future. Not to mention he was weak and scrawny; Bakura often found himself wondering how Jono could even remain standing upright in the violent winds. The red-eyed boy slept often, his body easily exhausted, during which times Bakura would have to carry him or set camp for a few hours, which typically was out of the question._

 _Extra baggage._

 _But knowing all of the complications and setbacks, the thief had still forced the boy out of his village and into the vicious desert._

 _At the present, Jono's intense gaze resided on his bandaged feet; Bakura wondered if he was concentrating on his footing so that he wouldn't fall or if he was simply lost in thought. He really did have lovely hair - yellow, like wheat shining in the sunlight, an oddity in Kemmet. It fell cropped above his shoulders in messy strands, occasionally curling gently skyward, and a bundle of waist-length locks cascaded down his back. Even his face was admirable, with subtle curvature and delicate golden lashes that fluttered over his striking crimson eyes._

 _Perhaps if he ever met a woman with such beautiful features, Bakura would give up his thievery and revenge for the sake of love and starting a family._

 _Clearing his throat along with his odd thoughts, he adjusted his cloak along his shoulders to better fend off the wind. It was a rugged piece of fabric, rather pathetic, really. A muddy brown in color (though it had once been beige), it fell down to mid calf, just a bit below his shenti which ended at his lower thighs. He mentally told himself for the umpteenth time that he should find a new one._

 _"Ba-ku-ra," a voice murmured, the childish manner to the name ever-present. It seemed Jono had a habit of speaking in strange patterns, occasionally shortening words to fit his limited vocabulary, just as a small child would do. Bakura often found himself wondering just how long the red-eyed boy had been alone in that village…_

 _"What?" He responded stiffly, ashen eyes flitting towards his companion._

 _Jono frowned at the tone, his bandaged fingers fidgeting idly with his tunic. "I'm tired," he explained simply, voice barely carrying over the whistling wind. He was a very quiet person, the thief had previously noted, and it didn't appear that days of travelling with him would change that._

 _Sighing, Bakura rubbed at his temples irritably. "You just slept a few hours ago. Can't it wait?"_

 _Apparently not, as Jono simply yawned in response. Bakura huffed and nodded, muttering under his breath as he went about setting up the tent - he couldn't very well carry the boy in such weather. "We're not resting long. I want to reach the next town by dawn tomorrow." Admittedly he was a bit tired, and a short break wouldn't hurt... Just until he regained some energy._

 _He watched with a bit of amusement as Jono crawled into the opening in the pitched fabric, immediately nuzzling his head into the stuffed cloth they used as a pillow. After a moment of glancing around, or at least trying to through the thick and sandy air, Bakura slipped inside as well, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on his arms in a sitting position beside his companion. Insomnia was a curse, honestly._

 _Jono shifted, rolling over to face the Egyptian with a blank expression. For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching with seeming disinterest. "Why did you take me from my home?" He asked at last, eyes never wavering or revealing any emotion._

 _The question was to be expected, and Bakura was rather surprised it had only come out after five days since leaving the boy's village. But when he really thought about it, he didn't have a solid answer; only guesses. "I'm not really sure," he replied honestly, his chin jutting at his arms awkwardly. "I think I just... wanted to."_

 _"Why are you alone?"_

 _It figured that when the boy decided to be social he would ask the questions Bakura either didn't want to answer or simply couldn't. Nevertheless, the thief couldn't help but feel relieved that his companion was willing to talk to him. The quiet had gone on too long... "My family is dead." Jono blinked, his pale lips parting in some sort of awe. "They were killed. By the Pharaoh, actually," Bakura continued after a moment. "You... remind me of myself, I suppose, in the sense that we're both alone. That's likely why I brought you with me."_

 _Wordlessly, Jono rolled over again so that his back was facing Bakura once more. There was silence, one that stretched on for minutes, only disturbed by the wind outside of their tent. Bakura had given up on conversation when the red-eyed boy spoke again, his voice soft but surprisingly very awake; the thief had assumed he'd fallen asleep._

 _"Bakura," Jono said, for once in a normal manner, "will you rewrap my bandages?"_

 _"...Your bandages?" Bakura swallowed, glancing at the red-eyed boy's body; every inch from his neck down was covered. He'd always wondered why that was if he was being honest, and this would certainly make a good opportunity to find out. "Okay."_

 _He watched as Jono sat up silently, his movements slow, though Bakura could tell there was no hesitation as he pulled his tunic over his head. The longer strands of his hair flowed down his spine, exaggerating the curvature of his back with the shadows it casted along it. Hesitantly scooting closer so that he sat just behind Jono, Bakura extended a hand and brushed the blonde locks over his shoulder._

 _It was a moment later that he finally began to remove the bandages, having had to gather his nerves (though he didn't know why they were even there in the first place), starting at the neck and working his way down his shoulders. As more and more skin was revealed, it became apparent why it had been hidden in the first place._

 _Dark crimson designs littered the expanse of Jono's body, intricate patterns that curved and intertwined along his pale white skin. They looked almost like red paint, or maybe blood, but upon further inspection they were identified as some odd type of burn marks._

 _Bakura paused after he'd exposed one of the other's arms, tracing the scars that trailed down the limb gently. "...Does it hurt?"_

 _Jono shook his head, craning his neck to watch the thief's fingers glide over his skin. "No," he murmured._

 _There was a lull in sound for a few long minutes as the thief resumed his unwrapping, his pace slow and his eyes wandering around the (rather beautiful) designs engraved into his companion's skin. They were mysterious, strange but in an alluring way; kind of like Jono himself. Bakura ghosted his fingertips down the boy's spine, watching as the soft muscles twitched and clenched at the light touches._

 _"What happened?" He asked after a moment of marvelling. "How did you get these?"_

 _The blonde sighed, playing with his ponytail idly. "I've always had them," he whispered, barely audible. "My eyes - they're red for a reason... I'm the keeper of the Red Eyes; the dragon, I mean." Pausing, he raised a hand to prod at a swirl on his shoulder. "I... My village. I burned it to the ground when I was young. This... power, it exploded. There was fire everywhere, but it didn't touch me."_

 _It had been foolish to think that Jono didn't have feelings. Just because he didn't show them much didn't mean they weren't there. Bakura gulped down the lump in his throat, resting his hand over Jono's. He felt his fingers twitch. "You don't have to talk about it," he assured softly._

 _"...I know."_

 _Jono didn't speak again after that, and Bakura took that as a sign to continue his initial task. He did so wordlessly, his palm tingling from where it had touched the boy's own, and he eventually moved around Jono to begin unwrapping his legs._

 _"Bakura?"_

 _The thief glanced up at his companion's face briefly in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue._

 _"If... If I ever kill you... Just know that I'm sorry."_

 _Bakura had to chuckle at that. "I know," he repeated, mimicking the other's earlier words._

 _And surprisingly, when Jono leaned forward and pressed their lips together... Bakura didn't mind._

* * *

It was early in the morning when Ryou awoke, which he was grateful for; after all, he had a lot to think about.

Bakura and Jono... They had been together in a romantic way. Jounouchi's past self and Ryou's yami; it was strange to think they had any connection to each other at all, let alone the bond that they'd apparently had thousands of years ago. Jounouchi hated Yami Bakura, and Bakura had never shown any distinct interest in the blonde as far as Ryou could tell. It seemed like mutual hatred.

Then again, there were many things he didn't know about his yami, this being only one of them. Perhaps Bakura had merely been hiding anything he might have felt towards Jounouchi, be it love or attraction or whatever.

But there was also a deeper meaning to the dream that made Ryou's mouth run dry.

Bakura was capable of compassion, affection, trust, friendship and…

And he was capable of _love_.

* * *

Marik didn't walk to school with Ryou that morning. In fact, the Egyptian wasn't in school at all. It worried Ryou in a strange way; maybe it was because he'd grown accustomed to the feeling of being watched at all seconds of the day, or maybe it was because of Marik's past. He didn't know what he was doing, what he could be doing, and that irked him. It made him nervous, made him squirm in his chair as the day dragged on painfully slow.

Finally, as the dismissal bell rang and Chouno-sensei attempted to finish her sentence while her students made a rush to the classroom door, he was able to hurry home - or rather, to Marik's home.

He'd never been inside it, nor did he really want to be, but he'd seen the Egyptian enter and exit on multiple occasions and knew for a fact that it was his and not some random resident's. He felt it was necessary to check on his... friend? After everything that had happened, Ryou felt as though he had a right to know what the other was up to, and his injured arm could serve to back up the claim.

Marik was evil. At least, he had been. No matter how nice and caring he appeared to be now, Ryou didn't completely trust him; he'd seemed just as nice and caring under the alias of Namu, so surely he could be pretending now as well.

Once he'd reached the apartment, Ryou hesitated at the doorstep before knocking briskly. It took a few moments for Marik to appear, and when he did, the albino almost wished he hadn't. He looked terrible. His hair was knotted and stood up at odd angles, his lilac eyes rimmed with dark circles and his eyes themselves tinted a strange pinkish-red color; it almost looked like he'd been crying, but that was preposterous. Black sweatpants hung low on his tan hips, his torso bare and void of any clothing.

He was a mess.

Ryou cleared his throat, fighting down his nervousness. "U-um... I just wanted to see if you were okay... You weren't at school today, so I figured..." Trailing off, he flicked his gaze to the side awkwardly, thoroughly ready for the ground beneath him to swallow him up. Perhaps it would bring him to the Shadow Realm. Maybe he'd see Bakura there.

"...Right," Marik mumbled, scratching his head. As though he remembered something important, the Egyptian flinched and straightened his shoulders a bit from their slouched position, stepping back and holding the door open wider. "Sorry, I should have invited you in by now... Heh."

A bit reluctantly, Ryou entered the apartment and politely toed off his shoes, setting his bag alongside them by the door as the Egyptian took a seat on the couch. The sitting room was large and spacey with limited furniture, though that was to be expected as the Ishtars had only recently moved to Japan, and Ryou found himself taking a seat beside his sort-of-friend within a few short moments.

"So," he began, picking a piece of lint off of his school blazer, "i-is everything alright with you...?"

Marik's adams apple bobbed up as he swallowed, his jaw clenched. "Yes, thank you. I'm just... feeling a bit under the weather today. I should be in school tomorrow, though..."

How awkward, Ryou thought as he shifted his legs uncomfortably. He'd expected things to go a bit smoother, preferably in a scenario that didn't involve having to enter the apartment and be holed up in the same room as Marik. "I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps some tea would help, if you happened to have some?" He suggested, if only for something to say.

"Perhaps," Marik agreed, his eyes wandering to the floor.

No more was spoken between the two for a while, the silence only broken when one cleared their throat or stifled a cough.

And then finally there was noise - the opening of a door.

Ishizu Ishtar entered the apartment from the front door, her long black hair falling loose around her shoulders. In her hand was a suitcase, and Ryou assumed she was probably returning from somewhere, perhaps an expedition. She licked her lips and darted her teal gaze at the boys nervously, smiling a bit forcedly when she noticed someone other than her brother sitting on the couch. "H-hello, Bakura Ryou-kun," she greeted, her voice quiet but hoarse.

Despite having barely any knowledge of the Egyptian girl, Ryou knew something was wrong with her. She seemed far too meek and nervous, something completely out of character for her. It was unnerving; what was going on in the Ishtar family? He smiled back at her, though he kept his gaze locked on the wall beside her head - he just couldn't look at her for whatever reason. "Hello, Ishizu... How are you?"

"I'm faring well." Closing the door behind her, she quickly crossed the room and headed towards the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. "Please excuse my coming and going, Bakura-kun," she murmured. "Just pretend as though I'm not here."

Ryou blinked and nodded slowly, glancing at Marik for an explanation as soon as Ishizu's bedroom door clicked shut. The blonde hadn't lifted his eyes from the floor. "Is she-"

"You should probably leave," he interrupted. Standing, the Egyptian scurried to the door and held it open in a silent dismissal, never making eye contact.

Ryou didn't understand; whatever the problem was, it was obviously bad enough that Marik couldn't even pretend to be his normal self. But he didn't point this out and chose to remain silent as he lifted himself from the couch and moved to gather his briefcase and shoes. With polite parting words, the Brit left the Ishtar home and made his way to his own, ignoring the snoring of his father and heading to his room.

A nap sounded good, he decided. It was as he lay on his bed attempting to sleep that he remembered something. He remembered it clearly, that piece he'd been missing.

 _"You have to help me kill him,"_ that person had said. _"He-"_

That's where it had cut off. There was nothing after that, nothing in the shock of being awakened suddenly. He'd forgotten what they had said as his consciousness returned the day before, but suddenly, it came back to him.

 _"He raped her."_

* * *

 **A/N:** **Any feedback or criticism is appreciated. Review(?)**


	6. Never Be The Same

**A/N:** **Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

 **Never Be The Same**

* * *

 _"He raped her."_

Her.

The thought had been bothering Ryou all morning, eating away at his mind until he could feel physical pain in his cranium, pain that seemed to cascade over his body like a blanket. He wanted to know, needed to know, and Gods did it hurt not to. He was so damn close, so utterly, painstakingly close to knowing the truth.

Bakura had been asked to kill someone. Surely that had to be connected to his supposed "death". Call it jumping to conclusions or intuition, but he was almost positive it was. Everything was connected in some way or another, and Bakura was wound in between the strings of the truth - the truth that Ryou was searching for.

But who was _"her"?_ No one in the Yuugi-tachi was female save for Anzu, and of course there was Kujaku Mai and Nosaka Miho, but he didn't think any of them had been… raped. It couldn't be any of them, surely.

The only other girl he could think of was…

 _Ishizu Ishtar._

The Egyptian woman had definitely been acting strange as of late, and - given that it was indeed Marik who'd asked Bakura to kill the rapist - it would make sense that her brother would seek revenge. It made sense, but at the same time, it didn't.

Ishizu was a strong woman at heart and mind, having the power to see the future; at least she had been able to at the time Ryou predicted the memory took place - Battle City. She could have easily avoided the terrible fate that could have been awaiting her, and even if she hadn't, Ryou couldn't picture her losing her cool over it. She'd watched her father get murdered by her younger brother, watched him turn into a psychopath, and still she remained calm and collected.

Nothing completely added up. There had to be someone else. Ryou simply didn't know many girls.

* * *

Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, Ryou allowed his shoulders to droop and his forehead to rest along the cool surface of his desk. Long white locks splayed out beside him, hanging along his face and curling down over the sides of the wooden tablet, and his eyes focused on them blankly.

The voice in his head had been quiet. It was something he knew he should be thankful for, but quite frankly, it terrified him. There was someone - something - inside of him, and not only was he unsure who or what it was, but he had no idea what it intended to do with him. The transformation into Yami Bakura was not pointless; there was a reason for it, and he'd be damned if he lost himself without at least knowing why.

"Where did you go?" The boy murmured almost inaudibly, eyelids falling to half-mast. "Why did you leave me..?"

It was ironic how he'd spent years trying to get rid of the spirit of the Ring, and now that he appeared to be gone for good, all Ryou wanted was for him to return. He missed Bakura - it was so lonely without him, lonely and terrifying. At least when Bakura was with him he was safe, protected by the entity at all costs. The spirit would never let anything else aside from himself pollute Ryou's mind, and the boy missed the feeling of security.

He hoped Bakura wasn't dead. Not only for his own sake, but for Bakura's as well. He knew he was capable of love - at least, he had been. And if Ryou could only find him, maybe he could help his yami, could make him better again.

He wanted to see the Bakura of the past; that poor, helpless boy who'd suffered great tragedy, the one who was desperate for affection and for someone to simply stand at his side - the one who felt empathy and regret.

And maybe that was selfish, this desire to change Bakura. But he liked to at least think that he cared for the spirit, and in some strange way, he felt that he owed it to him. The spirit had always been there for him, even if they never spoke. Bakura was the one he talked to, who he told his fears and hopes to and knew all his secrets. He kept him company, kept him from being lonely when his family had to leave him, and in turn that kept him from growing sad. He was able to smile because of Bakura, and now…

He was gone.

Ryou wanted him back, maybe more than anything. As horrible as he'd thought his situation was before the spirit left, he would gladly trade it without a second thought over this dreadful reality that had fallen over his life like a looming storm cloud.

"You look sad."

Slowly, the albino was brought out of his thoughts by a smooth, accented voice, his eyes lifting upwards to meet ashen grey orbs. Akefia Bakura stared back at him with an almost bored expression, lips drawn in a thin line. Ryou wondered if he had even wanted to speak to him, as the other boy looked hesitant to do so. He sat up, neck aching from the position it had been in, and licked his lips as his tongue fished for words.

It was ironic how all he could ask for at the moment was Bakura, but the only one he had was the wrong one.

"Not particularly," he murmured in response after a moment of consideration. "I'm just... missing someone, I guess you could say."

Akefia blinked, head pulling back a bit in what Ryou could only guess to be surprise. "Who could you be missing?"

With a sigh, the smaller boy laid his head back on his desk, figuring the Egyptian would catch the hint to leave him alone. When Akefia remained, however, Ryou pursed his lips. How could he tell the other about the twisted world of magic and monsters he lived in? How would this outsider possibly understand that there was another side of Ryou, a spirit from ancient Egypt that lived inside of him?

"...No one important," he finally responded, voice quiet. "Just... my other half."

And then the transfer student was gone, slipping silently away as though he were never there at all; Ryou wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been. He never knew anymore, with all the things his breaking mind had been conjuring up and confusing him with. Maybe he had imagined the brief conversation - maybe he'd imagined all of this. Maybe he would wake up and his life would be just as it had always been.

Bakura would be there - not this new Bakura, this transfer student from Egypt, but the spirit of the Ring - in all his wicked glory. He'd laugh at such a foolish dream, having been watching over their mental link as event after strange event unfolded behind Ryou's eyelids. Ryou would have unmarred skin on the lobes of his ears, and there would be no voice in his head save for his yami's.

Everything would be as okay as it had always been. He wouldn't complain anymore. He would accept his fate, accept the life he lived, would accept Yami Bakura.

But fate never had liked him much, had it?

"Bakura-kun!" As if to prove such a thought, fate decided to throw Yuugi into the mix at that exact moment, his small form bounding across the classroom and over to his friend's desk. He splayed his palms atop the tabletop just beside Ryou's head, crouching down to make eye contact with his own wide violet orbs. "What are you doing, lazy?! Come on, class ended ten minutes ago!"

Ryou merely frowned, furrowing his brows.

Huffing, Yuugi allowed his cheerful expression to melt into one of concern. "Bakura-kun, are you okay? I'm worried for you, you know... I wish you would talk to me."

"I told you not to worry, Yuugi-kun," the albino mumbled, turning his head away. He couldn't look at Yuugi, not now, not after the incident the week before. Every time his eyes landed on his friend, all he could see was red; red like blood. He felt the desire to hurt him, and he most certainly couldn't do that. Not to anyone, especially Yuugi.

"And I told you that I would worry for you whether you wanted me to or not," Yuugi countered, tilting Ryou's face back towards himself with a small, reassuring smile. "If... If you'd feel more comfortable with the other me... I wouldn't mind switching with him for a bit."

The hand on his cheek felt like a blade cutting into his skin. It sent shivers down his spine, his arms breaking out into gooseflesh. There was no voice this time, and that terrified him - the feeling that was flooding his senses was entirely of his own accord. This intense craving for blood, for... for revenge... It was all him, not the shadowy entity habituated inside of his head. It sent him into a frenzied panic, his breathing seeming to pick up pace and his forehead seemingly dripping with sweat. His eyes burned, everything burned. _It burned, it burned, it burned!_

Yuugi's face twisted into his yami's, eyes growing narrower and sharper, hair gaining little flicks of blonde in its long blackish-purple spikes. And then that face was smirking, mocking, laughing at his misfortune as if he knew. He knew what was happening, knew that Ryou was suffering. And... And he didn't care. He found the entire thing hilarious, found it a grand show fit for a king; fit for a _Pharaoh_.

And then the hand was gone, and Ryou realized that nothing had changed.

Yuugi was still Yuugi, his soft smile still in place and his eyes still wide and sincere.

Everything was okay.

But it wasn't.

"Bakura-kun?" Yuugi prodded gently, almost nervously. He'd seen the frantic look in Ryou's eye, the way his body seemed to shake with something akin to fear. "Bakura-kun, do you-"

"I need air," Ryou choked out, standing abruptly. As his chair clambered to the floor, a loud crash echoing throughout the classroom, the boy bolted out the door and down the hallway, soon finding himself outside and behind the school building. Curling up on himself, he slumped to the ground, both eyes watering and strangled gasps tearing at his throat.

Why was this happening? Why to him?

 **"Avenge them, thief. Avenge them."**

Avenge who?!

 **"Avenge your family; your mother and father, your friends. Avenge them."**

"I..." He desperately tried to push his sobs aside. "I-I'm not him! I'm not Bakura..!"

 **"Avenge them!"** The voice yelled, loud enough to make it seem like his eardrums would burst. **"Think of him! You swore you would get revenge for him, didn't you?! Was that not what you promised him as he lay dying at your own fault?!"**

Ryou coughed, clutching at his ears. Gods, what was happening? He didn't understand!

 **"Avenge him! Avenge the Red Eyes!"**

* * *

 _There was smooth, melodic laughter in his ear, warm arms draped over his shoulders and even warmer lips pressed against his neck. Jono kneeled behind him, hugging their frames close together as though he never planned to let go, a smile dancing along his pink lips - Bakura could feel it in the way he kissed him._

 _They were older by a year now, Jono having grown stronger and less tired over their journeys through Kemmet. While Bakura was learning to use his Ka, the red eyed boy was learning to control his. They made an excellent team, both in battle and in heart. A year had passed and their bond had only grown, and by this point Bakura had come to terms with his emotions._

 _He loved Jono._

 _Jono was his everything now, his light, his passion, his entire world. The boy had opened up to him, shown him his deepest desires and dreams, and with a bit of hesitancy Bakura had done the same. They were one and the same, two souls intertwined as one under the red string of fate. He'd seen Jono's scars and Jono his, and they'd each gained their fair share of newer ones while protecting each other._

 _"Ba-ku-ra," the blonde cooed, nuzzling his nose into the thief's hair._

 _Bakura smiled, placing the dagger he'd been polishing to the side and craning his neck to see his lover. "Can I help you?" He knew what the other wanted - after all, he'd been bugging him about it for the last two weeks._

 _"My birthday is tomorrow, Ba-ku-ra," Jono murmured as though it were a passing thought. "Can't you give me my present yet?"_

 _Chuckling, the Egyptian shook his head, glancing across the tent at his rucksack. The long, lavish cloak he'd managed to snag in their last heist lay just beneath the worn fabric, hidden from the sight of those prying red eyes. It had immediately reminded him of his companion, with its rich crimson color - a rarity in Kemmet. Such a garment could only be found draped over the skin of nobles, the richest of the rich; his Jono was most certainly worthy of anything beautiful._

 _Only the best for the best, his mother had always said._

 _"It's only a day, my dear. I'm sure you can wait that long, can't you?" Bakura's smile morphed into a teasing smirk, his quirked lips inching forward to press against Jono's in a gentle kiss. "You'll see; tomorrow will come before you know it."_

* * *

 _It was early in the morning when Bakura awoke, the sun not yet creeping over the horizon. He yawned and rolled over, laying a tanned arm over Jono protectively as he allowed sleep to take over him again._

 _The now-forgotten noise that had roused him was the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath._

 _As Bakura drifted off, the Pharaoh's guard silently surrounded the two's tent, the soldiers preparing to ambush the pair of thieves._

* * *

 **"Avenge him!"**

* * *

 _There was a whimper from a few cells over, this one more pained than the last. Bakura could hear the ropes being tied along with his lover's fearful breathing. It pained him, though surely not as much as it pained Jono._

 _"A hundred and one lashes for your crimes," a voice said - a guard. There was shuffling and then the man spoke again; "Off with his clothes, would you? And the bandages while you're at it."_

 _More shuffling, probably by other guards, and then the rustling of fabric. There was silence within the following moments and then a sharp intake of air, soon followed by quick and heavy footsteps._

 _"S-sir, where-"_

 _"I must inform the High Priest of this immediately," the first guard called out as the dungeon door was wrenched open. "Speak no word of this until I return. And don't touch him either, unless you wish to have your life taken from you."_

 _Bakura closed his eyes, breathing in a calming inhale of air. He needed to relax, to concentrate. He needed to clear his mind and come up with a plan. Wiggling his wrists experimentally, not for the first time, the thief huffed as he found the ropes binding him secure, as they should be. His Ka was sealed; he could feel it within his veins. Still, he wouldn't give up. There had to be a way._

 _Moments later, the door swung open again, swift footsteps rushing towards Jono's holding cell._

 _"You're sure it's him? You're sure it's the Red Eyes?"_

 _"Positive, sir. Here, have a look for yourself."_

 _By now, Bakura guessed, they had reached the cell, as he heard a second gasp. "This... I see. We must extract the beast from its container immediately."_

 _Hesitation. "But - But, sir, that... That would kill the boy."_

 _Bakura inhaled deeply through his nose._

 _"The extraction will begin at sunrise," the High Priest continued without regard, his footsteps echoing through the dungeon. "Prepare him."_

 _"B-but-"_

 _"He's just a lowly thief, and a foreigner at that." The door was opened once more, the footsteps halting as the man spoke. "You will throw away your concern for the container, for he is nothing more than such - a container."_

 _"...Yes, Priest Set. Understood."_

* * *

 **"Avenge him!"**

* * *

 _He pushed forward, urging his legs to carry him as fast as possible. There - there had to be time! It wasn't too late, it couldn't be!_

 _Skidding around a corner, Bakura forced himself to go faster, the Throne Room now in sight. He nearly collapsed in relief as his palms pushed past the grand doors, unguarded as every available guard had been gathered inside to secure the ritual. Nevertheless, he continued on, throwing his exhaustion aside as he entered the large room._

 _No one noticed him, too preoccupied with the event occurring in the center. Guards were strewn around the walls, all armed with spears and bows and swords, and a large group of them stood around the throne itself which held the Pharaoh, his hair colorful and spiked in an odd star-shape._

 _In the dead center of the room was a large stone tablet and a podium._

 _And atop the podium were two people._

 _The High Priest and Jono._

 _Bakura watched in horror, his mouth agape and tears flooding from his eyes, as Set raised his Millennium Rod and shouted aloud a chant. His eyes lay focussed on Jono, the blonde boy on his knees and his back arched beautifully as his mouth stretched open in an agonized scream, one that seemed to shake the room and pierced Bakura straight through his core._

 _A black and red mist seeped out from Jono's chest, tearing open organs and tissue and skin as it was extracted from within his body. It lingered in the air for a moment as Set merely stared in awe at the powerful entity, before the High Priest snapped back to his senses and hurriedly sealed it into the stone tablet._

 _Time seemed to freeze for Bakura as Jono slumped to the floor of the podium, blood seeping around him and oozing down the platform he was held on. Weakly, the boy opened his dull eyes - they were amber now, a sweet honey-brown that would likely have been warm under different circumstances - and met Bakura's petrified ones. The thief could tell his lover tried to smile, to give some sort of reassurance that it was okay, that he would be okay, but…_

 _He couldn't._

 _He coughed violently, body spasming with pain and blood splattering from his lips; lips Bakura knew so well._

 _And then he stilled, the only sounds emitting from him the utterly slow and uneven wheezing of his desperate breaths._

 _'Go,' he mouthed slowly in his lover's direction, eyes unfocused. 'Live.'_

 _As Jono's eyes finally slid closed and his chest ceased to rise and fall, Bakura found himself backing away, out of the grand doorway of the Pharaoh's Throne Room and away from Jono who lay dead in the center._

* * *

 **"Avenge him, Thief King Bakura. Avenge him!"**

* * *

 **A/N: I... have no regrets. (-cries-)**

 **Any feedback or criticism is appreciated. Review(?)**


	7. So Far Away

**A/N: Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

 **So Far Away**

* * *

There had only been nothing at first, a blackened void, and then there was something, small yet definitely still there. It felt as though he'd awoken from a terribly long sleep, the fuzzy cloud lingering at the back of his mind fading ever so slowly and his consciousness creeping along even more so. A few thousand years had passed, and now, after what seemed like an endless eternity, he felt _alive_ again - _he was alive_. Everything he'd unknowingly missed, everything he'd yearned for, came trickling back to his senses, and suddenly he was human once again; hunger, exhaustion, pain. Every sensation was welcomed and he drank them in thirstily, the oasis to his desert, the feast to his famine. It felt good to be awake again, to be alive.

His body was weak; completely and utterly unhealthy, frail and sore. It'd taken a little over a week to restore; most of which was spent - ironically - sleeping. He'd tried eating right away, nearly devouring anything he could get his shaky hands on, but had immediately hacked it right back up. So, instead, he decided to take things a bit slower from there. Another week passed, this one dragging along slower than he felt necessary, and soon he could move freely and eat at normal amounts.

It was strange how his body looked exactly as he remembered it; as though preserved over the millennia. There were the scars littered along his body, the rather deep and contrasting ones crisscrossing along his right cheekbone, one of few memorable features about himself. His white hair was tinted an estranged lavender, ever-messy locks falling just above his shoulders and bangs hanging annoyingly in his eyes. And of course there was his eyes; illuminating steel with flecks of violet, stunningly beautiful, dangerous, sharp. Looking in the mirror, he could feel his own breath catching at the nostalgia. It was like he'd never died.

Yet something was amiss.

His eyes, though as beautiful as ever, lacked that certain spark - the one that often caused him to do impulsive, irrational things. The spark that drove him, that made him both crazy and completely sane at the same time, that kept a fire burning in his heart, in his soul; it was gone. When he gazed at his reflection, it looked back somberly, placidly.

The great King of Thieves, the merciless Bakura, was nothing more than that scared, saddened little boy who'd just witnessed his village be slaughtered and turned into molten gold. There was a hole where that fire used to be, and he didn't know how to get it back. The title of 'Thief King' made him want to retch; the thoughts of revenge made him feel uneasy. Revenge meant murder, meant bloodshed. It meant he would have to kill. Hadn't enough people lost their lives? His family, his friends, the strangers he'd murdered for simply looking at him in a way he felt was wrong, those who simply tried to protect another - they'd all died, and for what? What would killing the Pharaoh do for him besides give him yet another nightmare?

He looked like himself, that was for sure. But he definitely wasn't the same person mentally. It was eery, scary even. A part of him was missing - a rather large part at that - and he had no idea where it had gone or how he was supposed to get it back. That voice, that damned curse, had left him here all helpless and confused, and Gods did he need it back. He needed the companionship, needed the comfort of knowing he wasn't really all alone in this world that so purposefully stood against him.

Oddly enough, his first priority was not of the Pharaoh or the destruction of him. Two weeks had passed since he'd awoken in a human body, and finally Bakura was able to realize who he needed to find.

The one who shared his name, Bakura Ryou.

His Yadonushi had the Ring. Without the Ring, Bakura was nothing. The Ring was power, the Ring was strength, and Bakura needed those things in order to enact his revenge.

Or rather, he needed that in order to feel whole again.

With that thought in mind, he began to create and legalize an alias; Akefia, his mother's name, and Bakura, his own. Surely his own name wasn't the best choice on his part, but with everything he was currently lacking, he couldn't bare to rid himself of his name as well. Once he had that decided, he set about enrolling into Domino High School, using forged papers and documents to prove he existed.

It had been easier than he thought it would be, and with just the tiniest hint of smugness and a far larger amount of guilt, Bakura soon found himself laying eyes on his prior host. Looking at him from another perspective was certainly strange - after all, it'd been his body as well for years now. Ryou seemed different somehow, but without their mental link, Bakura couldn't be sure. He'd expected the boy to be rejoicing his absence, to be happy, but… He seemed rather normal, that same sad aura about him and a distant expression on his face.

And that's when everything began to change.

 _Ryou_ began to change.

Little by little, that distant expression turned to one of pure rage, of what he could only identify as insanity, and then confusion and fear began to bleed through.

At first he assumed Marik Ishtar was to blame; the Egyptian's presence certainly unnerved him, especially since he appeared to be obsessed with Ryou based on the obscene amount of time he spent following him around and spying on him. Marik was a no-good manipulator, someone who knew exactly how to weave his way into the mind of another, Millennium Rod or not. He had pawns, servants he could use to do his dirty work, and as he watched them squirm he would sit upon his throne with a satisfied smirk.

Even with his split personality gone, he was still dangerous. Bakura didn't trust him.

But eventually he recognized himself in Ryou; the fear, the mood-swings, the inexplicable anger - it was all him when he was alive. The Millennium Ring still hung from his neck, and it was because of this that everything was going wrong.

Bakura had sold his humanity for a companion and a reason to live, and Ryou, his legacy, was now paying the price.

* * *

 _Revenge, he needed to get revenge._

 _Revenge for his village, revenge for Jono._

 _Revenge…_

As if he couldn't control his legs, he found himself maneuvering towards Yuugi's Game Shop. His body felt numb, almost like it were moving on its own accord. He felt like he had no power over himself, but he knew that whatever it was he was doing needed to be done. If making things right meant giving up control for a little while then so be it.

To think that he'd befriended Yuugi… After everything his other self had done to him, to Jono, to his family…

He had to avenge them.

Halfway to his destination Ryou realized that he'd left Yuugi at school. He slowed his pace, trembling with rage at both his own stupidity and the fact that his revenge would have to wait, but he still continued to walk. When he found himself standing before Jounouchi's apartment complex, he finally understood that what he was searching for was not vengeance, but comfort.

The apartment was empty, no sounds heard through the door, so Ryou waited. He could only hope that his friend would head straight home rather than hitting the arcade or stopping for food. Thankfully, he could spot a speck of blonde hair bobbing its way down the street before long. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ryou steeled himself.

"Bakura?" Jounouchi blinked, amber eyes wide, and paused a few feet away from him. He raised a golden brow curiously. "What are you doing here?"

Ryou shifted his weight awkwardly, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what he was doing at Jounouchi's apartment. "W-well, I…"

And suddenly all he could see was Jono, red eyes gleaming like rubies, bandages concealing every trace of skin possible leaving only his face revealed. He could see him wearing a long crimson cloak, an image he knew Bakura had once seen, and suddenly everything hurt. It was an agony like no other, ripping him apart from the inside out, and some part of him wondered if this was what Jono felt as his soul was being torn from him.

A sob broke past his lips, tears welling in his eyes, and blinded by emotions and memories that could only be _Bakura_ , Ryou sprung forward and clung to Jounouchi - to Jono - like a lifeline. His friend caught him easily, a sound of confusion rumbling in his throat, yet he didn't turn him away.

"B-Bakura? Are you alright? Did something happen?"

Ryou shook his head, burrowing his face into the crook of Jounouchi's neck. His tears soaked into Jounouchi's uniform blazer, his fingers clutching at his back hard enough to bruise, but neither seemed to notice nor care. "Y-you were _dead_ ," Ryou cried, squeezing tighter. "You were dead and - and I was so alone! I was so sad and scared and _alone_! I - I tried to save you, I did, but I couldn't, and..!"

"Hey," Jounouchi cut in, pulling him back just far enough to make eye contact. "What are you talking about? I'm right here."

"But you were _dead_ , I watched them k-kill you!"

The blonde offered a comforting smile, though he clearly had no idea what Ryou was talking about. "Was this a dream you had? A nightmare? It wasn't real, alright, I'm right here," he soothed.

"Don't - no, it was real! It was real, and it hurt, and I-," Ryou buried his hands into Jounouchi's hair, fisting the smooth blonde locks desperately, and crushed his lips against his friend's. When he pulled away, leaving Jounouchi stunned, he continued. "I was so scared," he whispered, "I was sure I'd never see you again, Jono… So scared…"

Jounouchi's brows knit together, but before he could speak, Ryou pressed in for another kiss.

* * *

"So…" Marik cleared his throat. "You're saying you… you kissed Jounouchi-kun, thinking that he was Jono and you were… Bakura… because they were lovers thousands of years ago?"

Ryou groaned pitifully, burying his face further into his pillow. It was the first time he'd allowed Marik into his bedroom, but seeing as how he'd refused to leave the comfort of his bed and his father had simply let the Egyptian in without a concern, he honestly didn't have much of a choice. Marik had perched himself stiffly in Ryou's desk chair, facing his sort-of-friend who was covered in a mound of blankets, but had quickly moved himself to sit at the foot of Ryou's bed once the conversation took on a more interesting tone.

"I'll assume that means 'yes'," the foreigner continued, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. "My apologies, Ryou, but I think you're really losing it. To kiss Jounouchi…"

"Twice," Ryou piped in, his voice muffled.

"Twice," Marik agreed. He paused, thinking, before glancing at his distressed friend curiously. "Did he - just out of curiosity! - did he kiss you back?"

Face heating almost painfully with embarrassment, Ryou cleared his throat and reluctantly glanced up. "He… well, the first time he was too stunned to do anything. And the second… um, the second time he kissed back." Marik's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "I don't think he meant to!" Ryou quickly continued, swallowing nervously. "I… well, it's obvious that he likes Kaiba-kun, so… I think it might have just been a reflexive response. He pushed me away and fled into his apartment after a moment."

"That's…" Marik shook his head. "I really did not need to know that Jounouchi-kun likes Kaiba-san."

The Brit merely shrugged.

Silence, and then, "You don't _actually_ like him, do you? Jounouchi-kun, I mean."

"What?! Me, like Jounouchi-kun?! No way!" Flushing madly, Ryou plunged back into his pillow, earning an amused chuckle from Marik.

"Who knows," the Egyptian mused, "if you keep merging with Bakura you may just end up head over heels for him." The mass of white hair and blankets squeaked at him. "It's strange," he sobered after a moment, suddenly serious, "you turning into Bakura. You feel what he felt, you know what he knew."

And then Marik froze, eyes wide, a look of absolute horror overcoming his handsome features. Ryou, feeling the other stiffening beside him, raised his head again. "Marik?"

"You know what he knew," he repeated, lilac eyes dilating. "You know. Oh my Ra, you know."

"I know what? Marik, what are you-,"

 _"You have to help me kill him! He - he raped her!"_

 _Ishizu Ishtar entered the apartment from the front door, her long black hair falling loose around her shoulders. In her hand was a suitcase, and Ryou assumed she was probably returning from somewhere, perhaps an expedition. She licked her lips and darted her teal gaze at the boys nervously, smiling a bit forcedly when she noticed someone other than her brother sitting on the couch._

 _"Marik," he called lowly, his voice not unlike that of a hissing snake. The Egyptian raised his breath-taking lilac eyes in acknowledgement, jaw clenched in a concentrated frown. "On my mark, I want you to force yourself into your body."_

" _You have to help me kill him!"_

 _Bakura huffed, pursing his lips in thought. "...Should you choose to do so, I think I could spare some time to listen to you speak. I'm feeling rather generous today," he said after a long pause._

" _He - he raped her!"_

And somehow, everything began to make sense. All of the pieces were fitting themselves together into a puzzle, intricate and dark. It make his stomach flip in his abdomen, made him feel nauseous and disgusted to his very core.

Bakura had disappeared while trying to destroy Yami Marik and get Marik his body back. Someone, perhaps only days before if his estimations were correct, had asked for Bakura's help in killing someone. Someone who had raped someone.

And Ryou had already suspected Ishizu Ishtar, however briefly. She was off, and looking back, that suitcase might not have been for work purposes after all. " _Please excuse my coming and going,"_ she'd said - perhaps she was leaving. It would certainly explain why Marik had been such a mess that day.

Marik's evil split personality raped his sister.

 _Yami Marik raped Ishizu Ishtar._

 _Using Marik's body._

"Oh, Marik," Ryou breathed, feeling rather winded. He hesitantly reached a hand out to the Egyptian, seeking to comfort his friend, but Marik flinched away.

"I knew it," he murmured, "you know. You know what he did - what he did to her."

"She never deserved that, Marik."

"Yeah, well, it fucking happened, Ryou. _It happened._ And now," his voice cracked, "and now she can't even _look_ at me. All she sees is _him_. Her _rapist_. It was bad enough when I - when _he_ \- murdered our father right in front of her. But now-,"

"Marik, it's going to be okay," Ryou interrupted, tugging Marik into a hug. It was strange, and it felt more than a little wrong, but he endured for his friend's sake. "He's gone now, Marik. Bakura got rid of him. Just like you asked him to."

" _But now Bakura is gone too_! And it's all my fault!"

"It wasn't-,"

"Yes it was!" Marik pried himself from Ryou's embrace, eyes wild. "I asked him to kill that monster! He's gone because I fucking _made_ him fight him! And you know what's even worse? _I created Yami Marik in the first place!"_

Ryou shook his head, growing increasingly more desperate. "That wasn't your fault either! It was your father's fault, and the Millennium Rod-,"

" _SHUT UP_!"

And along with a resounding _smack_ and a crash, Ryou felt scorching pain flooding his cheek like wildfire. It stung and burned, and his arm and side hurt from where the force of the slap had thrown him against the floor. He gaped, stunned, up at his supposed friend who now stood towering above him.

"You know nothing!" Marik yelled, fists clenched at his sides. "You're _nothing_ like him! He would never say such stupid things, such lies! I thought - I waited for him to come back, I waited and waited and _waited_ , but all I got was _you_. You and your annoying whining and crying, and your stupid little problems! And just when I was starting to lose hope, I realised you were _becoming_ him. I got so - so _happy._ I thought, _I'll finally be able to see him again_ , that I'd get him back through you."

Ryou felt his heart clench. He could already feel the abandonment coming.

" _But you're nothing like him, Ryou_."

And then Marik was gone, leaving nothing but a few bruises and a lot of pain in his wake.

Somewhere in the back of his head, the voice was laughing.

* * *

 **A/N: Alrighty! Here's some plot in return for forgiveness for my uber late update!**

 **As always, any feedback or criticism is appreciated. Review(?)**


	8. Hide

**A/N: Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

 **Hide**

* * *

"So," chirped an overexcited Yuugi the following Monday, "how was your weekend, Bakura-kun?"

In all honesty, Ryou felt the need to lie. How would he tell Yuugi that he spent his weekend holed up in his room toying with cursed items, reading and rereading books on the spirit world, and attempting dark rituals all in the hopes of bringing back Yami Bakura? His father had gone off on Saturday night, likely to a bar, and hadn't returned since. And while Ryou was worried about him, some part of him was grateful that the man was gone.

But most importantly, his weekend had been almost unbearably lonely. He'd grown accustomed to Marik's presence throughout the last two weeks, and without him around the absence of Bakura was even more pronounced. The voice had spoken to him on more than one occasion, but this of course only served to make Ryou even more miserable. He could only be thankful that the bruise on his cheek had gone away before Monday arrived; he wasn't sure how he would've explained that away.

Hesitantly, Ryou smiled at his friend, unconsciously curling in on himself. "It was fine," he said simply, hoping beyond all hope that Yuugi would buy it.

He didn't, of course, but he didn't push either.

The two replaced their sneakers for their indoor shoes in silence, the bustling of the student populous around them a bit suffocating but otherwise ignored. Ryou could feel his friend's gaze flicker towards him every few moments. It sent chills down his spine every time.

For some reason, whenever Yuugi looked at him, all he could feel was shame. Somewhere deep inside him, he feared that Yuugi knew the things he'd done, the things he'd thought and wanted to do. It made him feel almost unbearably guilty, perhaps even paranoid to some extent.

But his paranoia had all but vanished in the past two weeks, hadn't it? He no longer felt so in touch with the surrounding world, was no longer sensitive to every movement or noise. This was something he'd only noticed recently, in fact, but it both pleased him and bothered him all at once. While his paranoia wasn't exactly a good thing, it wasn't a bad thing either. Sure, it got him worked up over nothing half of the time, but it also helped prepare him for things he had no control over. He always knew when it would rain, always knew when someone was watching him, and he could read emotions as though it were a children's book. He was always prepared, always aware, and it often allowed him to take caution when necessary.

But now he simply felt like he'd been cast into the desert naked with no worldly belongings to help him survive. He felt helpless, and he hated it.

Perhaps it was another thing to blame the voice for.

"Are you coming?" Yuugi asked, resting a hand gently on his friend's arm. His large amethyst eyes blinked at Ryou in concern, lips barely quirked into a smile as though he couldn't bring himself to fully create the expression.

Ryou swallowed somewhat nervously and nodded. "Yes, sorry. I must have gotten distracted."

Nodding in understanding, the shorter of the two gently clasped hands with his friend and tugged him in the direction of their first period. Anzu joined them along the way, chatting happily with a suddenly energetic Yuugi after exchanging a few brief pleasantries with Ryou.

The first thing the whitette noticed upon entering the classroom was that Marik's desk was unoccupied. While he felt his stomach flip, Ryou couldn't help but be a little relieved; he wasn't sure if he was ready to face the Egyptian quite yet. The second thing, however, he knew he wasn't ready to face now or ever.

When their eyes met across the room, Jounouchi flushed a deep crimson, his blush heating all the way up to the tips of his ears, and let out a rather unmanly noise from the back of his throat. Ryou coughed, embarrassed, and both looked away quickly.

Raising an eyebrow, Yuugi was clearly curious, but thankfully he didn't ask. Sometimes Ryou was honestly grateful for his little friend's kindness.

English, as the class subject was, had always been an easy subject for Ryou. He'd had an English mother and a Japanese father, and had therefore grown up learning to speak both languages. Only Jounouchi could speak English fluently, having been raised in New York for most of his childhood, but Anzu, who planned to move to America after graduation, was steadily becoming more skilled in the foreign tongue. Ryou also knew that Kaiba Seto could also speak English due to his business expanding to overseas countries, but Ryou didn't exactly count him as he also knew a variety of other languages as well.

Either way, Ryou had always felt at home in English class in a way that most others simply couldn't. Jounouchi, for one, mostly slept through his classes or passed notes to Honda, Kaiba was too busy with his laptop to actually pay attention, and while Anzu was a bit ahead of the rest of the class, English was not her native tongue. Ryou often considered himself to be the only one who could truly appreciate the course.

It was because of this that, once seated, his worries began to slip away.

Losing himself in the lesson, the Brit found that he felt more at ease than he had in a long while. His shoulders sagged into a more relaxed position, losing their tension, and holding his eyes open wasn't so much of a burden anymore. It was only when the teacher called for them to partner up that he returned to reality.

He looked to Yuugi first, finding that his friend had already paired with Anzu. He didn't even bother glancing in Jounouchi's direction. Shrugging, Ryou stood and made his way over to Kaiba, as he often did when his friends were at an odd number. The CEO never minded his company, strangely enough, despite claiming to despise anyone that wasn't himself or Mokuba, and especially those close to Yuugi. Ryou would never go as far as calling them friends, but he assumed that he was the closest thing to one that Kaiba had.

And that thought often left him sad. Kaiba wasn't such a bad person, in actuality. He was simply devoted wholeheartedly to his brother. Kaiba wanted to give Mokuba the world, and so far he was doing a pretty damned good job at it.

Maybe that's what Jounouchi saw in him.

Before Ryou could reach the CEO, however, his path was intercepted unexpectedly by the transfer student. For a long moment neither spoke, Ryou a bit surprised and Akefia appearing to have some inner battle with what could only be himself, but finally the Egyptian steeled himself and spoke up.

"I don't have a partner," he said simply, pale brows drawn irritably.

Smiling kindly, Ryou nodded and gestured for Akefia to follow him back to his seat. It wasn't like Kaiba would care either way if he joined him or not, he figured. Besides, Akefia didn't have any friends yet aside from Yuugi, if that even counted as a friendship, and probably felt uncomfortable in partnering situations. Ryou knew the feeling and could sympathize.

"Alright," the Brit huffed, plopping himself onto his chair. Akefia dragged another up to his desk and sat across from him. "So, we're supposed to act like strangers - easy enough, seeing as you're new - and share things about ourselves."

Akefia sighed, obviously reluctant.

"It doesn't need to be anything personal," Ryou assured, leaning forward in his seat a little. "Just things like, I don't know, your favourite foods and colours?"

"Sounds fine," the Egyptian murmured, crossing his arms. "You first."

Ryou nodded. " _My name is Bakura Ryou,_ " he began, " _and I am sixteen years old. I like all things occult, enjoy watching horror movies, and I like just about any foods. My favourite colour is blue, and I want to be ghost hunter when I'm older._ "

He worried for a moment that Akefia may not understand completely, as Chouno had said that he's failing all of his classes, but he also remembered him speaking English before after Ryou fainted in phys ed. The transfer student nodded, understanding it was his turn, and paused for a moment to think.

" _I am Akefia Bakura. I was born in Egypt, was raised by my mother and father until their death, and recently began attending Domino High school in Domino, Japan. My favourite colour is red, my favourite food is roast pig, and I don't really have any hobbies."_

Raising a brow, Ryou propped his chin on his hands. " _How can anyone not have any hobbies?"_

" _I don't do much other than go to school and sleep lately,"_ Akefia responded, shrugging.

" _Sleep? Are you tired often?"_

" _Even when I'm not, it helps to pass the time."_

"Good, you two," the teacher praised, smiling proudly at the pair before moving on to scold another for speaking in Japanese.

Ryou hummed contemplatively, closing his eyes for a moment. When he finally opened them, preparing to speak, he found a pair of ashen eyes watching him. "What?" He asked, suddenly feeling self conscious. "Is there something on my face?"

"No," Akefia assured, "I was just wondering something." He waited until Ryou nodded in permission to continue to do so. "You asked me before - _you asked me before about the Millennium Items. But how is it that you know about them in the first place?_ "

Gulping, Ryou averted his gaze to his desktop. In all honesty, he should have seen this coming. While he was unfazed by the switch into English halfway through, he decided he may as well use it to get something out of the situation. " _Alright,"_ he mumbled, " _I'll tell you if you tell me how you can speak English so well. You hardly even have an accent."_

" _Ah,"_ Akefia mused, a hint of a smirk pulling at his dark lips. " _Well played."_ Uncrossing his arms, the Egyptian sat up straighter and leaned forward a little, mimicking Ryou's position. " _I was once… very close to someone who was partially English. He taught me to speak it, among other things."_

" _I see… And are you still close to this person?"_

Akefia frowned. " _Not exactly. We were… seperated when I left."_

" _Oh,"_ Ryou murmured, " _sorry…"_

His partner simply shrugged in response. " _Your turn."_

" _Okay. Well… I was wondering about the Millennium Items because I own one. The Ring, in fact."_ Akefia nodded, gesturing towards the golden trinket dangling around Ryou's neck. " _Right. I just wanted a little background, I guess_."

" _What is it like? Having molten bodies and souls hanging from your person?"_ When Ryou flinched, looking rather sickened at the wording, Akefia shot him an apologetic look and hurried to correct himself. " _I mean, they're said to be haunted."_

Ryou bit his lip. " _Well, yes, some of them are…"_

" _And yours? Is it haunted?"_

" _I… um..."_ Swallowing, the Brit averted his gaze, unknowingly seeking out Yuugi. The small duelist was chatting away happily with Anzu, the brunnette appearing to have given up on getting her friend to communicate in English. His eyes accidentally caught Jounouchi's, the blonde stiffening in his seat.

And then something strange happened.

Jounouchi shot out of his seat, chair crashing loudly to the floor and attracting attention that seemed to go unnoticed by him, and stalked briskly across the room to everyone's mutual confusions. A few worried whispers were exchanged as Jounouchi marched right up to Kaiba, fists clenched. For a moment Ryou feared his friend was about to pick a fight. This thought was thrown out of the window, however, when the blonde grabbed Kaiba's face in both hands and smashed their mouths together.

Honda whistled lowly and leaned back in his seat across the room, obviously taken off guard by the suddenness but not entirely shocked by the development. Ryou watched on with a sad little smile playing on his lips. A part of him was hurting - the part that belonged to Bakura - but another, much larger part of him was happy for his friend when the usually cold CEO began to kiss back just as determinedly.

"I never thought I'd see the day," Anzu could be heard saying, her and a few of the other girls in the room giving a grand round of applause for the unlikely couple.

"Woo! Go Jounouchi-kun!" Yuugi was cheering.

When the two long-time rivals finally pulled away, one flushing madly and the other smirking victoriously, Ryou turned back to his partner, a smile still pulling his face wide. He blinked in surprise when he found Akefia's seat empty, the smile falling as he glanced around in confusion for the missing transfer student.

* * *

The murmuring of the television alerted him first to his father's presence upon his arrival home that day, the smell of cigarette smoke following moments later. Wrinkling his nose, Ryou stepped out of his shoes and into his slippers, dropping his keys off as he made his way into the sitting room. His father lounged casually on the couch, a stick of cancer poking out from between his pursed lips, his feet crossed on the coffee table as though they belonged there.

Most disappointingly, a woman was curled up at his side, head resting on his shoulder, her body mostly exposed save for one overly large tee-shirt that just barely reached her thighs. She looked up at him as if not really seeing him, before turning her attention back onto the telly.

"Where have you been?" His father slurred, not even sparing him a glance.

Ryou scowled. "School. And you? Where have _you_ been, dad?"

"Stay outta my business, boy. Don't you have homework to do or somethin'?"

Sighing heavily, Ryou left the two to their own devices and crept quietly up to his room. It had been a long while since his father had brought a woman home when he was around to witness it, as Ryou was still rather sensitive to the topic of his mother's death and seeing his father "moving on" always left him bitter and depressed.

After ordering some curry from CoCo Curry House for dinner - he wasn't exactly in a cooking mood tonight - he flopped onto his bed and curled in on himself, staring at the wall blankly as his tugged his comforter up over his body so as to disappear.

He wondered what Marik spent his day doing; wondered if he'd been alone all weekend. No doubt the absence of Ishizu had been more pronounced after the confrontation. While Ryou still felt somewhat guilty over the ordeal, he knew deep down that he hadn't done anything wrong. Either Marik had gone into some sort of defensive mode, or he'd been manipulating him all along and had simply snapped. The thought of him having been telling the truth left an ache in Ryou's heart.

But Marik had always been a rather destructive person by nature. What if he'd done something to himself? To someone else? What if he'd not come to school because he couldn't rather than simply not wanted to? Ryou hoped he was hiding. He hoped it wasn't serious.

He shouldn't be so concerned, he mentally scolded. Marik claimed to hate him. Lying or not, it had still been said. Ryou shouldn't been thinking of him now, not when there was a chance that he'd only end up hurt in the end. Maybe this was why Kaiba never cared for people. Maybe he was afraid of getting hurt.

Only, this wasn't exactly true. Kaiba cared for Jounouchi now. There had to be something there that made the hurt worth it, should it ever come.

Shaking his head, Ryou burrowed himself further into his blanket. He wanted to forget - to forget everything, if only for a little while.

* * *

 _Shock. Disbelief. Hurt. Hope. Desperation._

 _As if his heart couldn't decide on which emotion to settle on, he found himself flooded by an enormous tidal wave full of them. It hit him all at once with that single glance, choking him, squeezing him, leaving him painfully confused and breathless._

 _What could be considered his hands felt as though they were twitching, aching to reach out, to touch. To check for reality. For lies. Confusion. Hallucination? Surely. This couldn't be real. It simply wasn't possible._

" _I watched you die!" He screamed, his entity throbbing, pulsing. He felt his host falter, having felt the tremor inside his head. "I watched you die!"_

 _But he was here, wasn't he? He could see his host extending a hand, carelessly, unknowingly, and clasp around_ _ **his**_ _. Bakura seethed, his soul writhing in its enclosure, begging to be freed._

" _The name's Jounouchi. Jounouchi Katsuya."_

 _His everything burned, crumbled, decayed. He could see amber eyes shining with friendliness, with openness, the same kindness that took him months to unravel. They were red once, though, red as a ruby, red as the desert sun setting on the sandy horizon. He'd only seen them amber once._

 _Once…_

" _ **An imposter,"**_ _a voice whispers in his head, soothingly, persuading. He nods, latching onto his guide with desperation._ " _ **He isn't real. He is mocking you. Mocking your pain."**_

" _Mocking my pain, yes, my pain."_

" _ **This is a trick. A cruel trick, thief, a cruel trick indeed. How dare he?"**_

" _Cruel, so cruel, how dare he? How… dare…?"_

" _ **Punish him. Make him pay. He deserves it. Punish him."**_

" _Punish…?"_

" _ **Punish."**_

" _Punish…"_

 _But the vision changes. It blurs for a moment, startling him, and he growls in rage. Come back, come back! It does, he doesn't, but someone else - someone far worse - can be seen in his stead._

 _Colourful hair that defies gravity, a golden pyramid trinket around his neck, eyes deceivingly innocent, falsely kind… Touching his host, touching him, touching_ _ **him**_ _._

 _He hates, he hates, he hates. He needs to kill, to destroy._

" _ **Mocking you,"**_ _comes the whisper._ " _ **Take over the boy. Kill them."**_

" _Kill them…"_

" _ **Now, thief. Kill them."**_

" _Yes, master. Kill them… Kill…"_

" _ **Say my name."**_

" _Kill…"_

" _ **Say my name, and I shall give you strength. Go on, thief, say it. Say it."**_

" _Ah… Zorc. Master Zorc. Zorc Necrophades!"_

* * *

 **A/N:** **-muffled coughing noises-**

 **Any feedback or criticism is appreciated. Review(?)**


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